


Let me entertain you

by AudrieMay



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: (i guess), (like really shameless), (which I can't believe because I swore to myself this won't get angsty but here we are), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, I'll just tag as I go, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Original Character(s), Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Texting, and some flirting, gigs gigs and more gigs, some alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudrieMay/pseuds/AudrieMay
Summary: Roger is a drummer in a band (or three), Freddie has a shop with fancy clothes. They meet in a bar, and the rest is...well, the rest is in the fic 😉
Relationships: Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Comments: 140
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In terms of physical pleasures, Roger wasn’t a picky man, really. A man, a woman, anyone could do as long as there was some kind of chemistry going on between them. But tonight, he’d been on edge and not really in the mood to hook up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to my first ever addition to the wonderful Queen fandom here on AO3! I hope you'll enjoy your read!
> 
> Huge thanks to nastally for being a wonderful beta <3

The club was half-empty when Roger came in for a drink at around half past midnight. Not that he expected a lot of people to be here on a random Wednesday night. He had a plan to just pop by his usual place, have a beer or two, and then head out to the gig at that club (more like a basement) he was supposed to play at. A gig that he was supposed to start playing at 3am couldn’t have the most sober audience in the world, so why should he be sober? Although, it wasn’t like a couple of beers would get him drunk, and he planned on arriving at the venue earlier, to at least catch the end of the set of whoever was supposed to play before him, so even if he was tipsy, he would sober up anyway.  
  
Sipping nervously on his beer at the bar, Roger wanted to curse his stubbornness which had led him into his current situation. Dropping out of dentistry college to try and make a living as a musician wasn’t exactly a failproof plan, but in his mind, it was far from having several desperate gigs a month with three different bands, at some of the most pitiful venues he had seen, with the really shitty setlists. And all that just to end up with his head barely above the water, in a financial sense, since he felt obligated to decline any financial help from his parents. Not to mention each band had its own problems and shortcomings, so the frequent rows between the members weren’t rare. What a glistening start to a music career.  
  
Roger looked around the club again. Not a lot more people had showed up since he had set down to drink. He raised his hand in the bartender’s direction, calling for one more beer, when he noticed another guy, sitting at the end of the bar.  
  
Freddie’s eyes had finally met the eyes of the stranger sitting a few empty barstools away. He had been looking at the bloke for the last five minutes. At a first glance, he wondered if the man was drunk off his arse, staring at the wall as if he were completely lost in his thoughts. But then he noticed his hands, tapping lightly on the bar, head nodding very slightly, in time with the rhythm of his hands. Leg twitching slightly, lips pursed.  
  
To an ordinary person, these slight mannerisms would have seemed odd, but Freddie had spent just enough time with his musician friends, that he could connect these twitches to the fact he was probably in a presence of a drummer. And a very hot one. With a slim frame and blonde hair that reached just below his shoulders, the man wasn’t the type that would usually catch Freddie’s eye, still, he couldn’t deny the unusual and soft but daring beauty of the person next to him.  
  
So, when the blond man finally looked at him, Freddie raised his own beer, as if to say “cheers”. He then took a long sip, keeping his eyes on the man, who now rolled his eyes at him.  
  
Roger knew that this place had an unofficial reputation of hosting mainly gay clientele, but there was always a chance that a man next to him mistook him for a girl. He had faced countless catcalls in the past, a thousand drinks were bought for him and all that because of his long blonde hair and soft features. Not even the masculine clothes seemed to help. But he would rather die than cut his hair just because society said so.  
  
Roger’s second beer had been promptly served and he chugged down half of it, slammed the bottle on the counter and flipped the dark-haired man off. The stranger laughed lightly at his gesture, now approaching him.  
  
“Why so nervous?” A coquettish smile formed at the edges of Freddie’s mouth.  
“First of all,” Roger uttered through clenched teeth, “I’m not nervous. And second, I’m not a girl.”  
“Oh, I know, I know, darling.”  
“I am not your darling, either.” Roger spoke before he completely took in what the man had said to him. “Wait, what do you mean, you know?”  
“I know you’re not a girl. Not in these clothes and not with these hands.” Freddie gestured at his hands, one of them still clenching the beer bottle.  
Roger gave the stranger a forced smile. “Should I give you an award for getting it right?” Well, even if the man hadn’t mistaken him for a girl, it still didn’t mean he was too eager to chat.  
  
But moments later, Roger started feeling slightly guilty for snapping at a man who, in fact, had done nothing wrong. Not really willing to apologize, he sighed. The man should at least get some explanation.  
  
“A lot of blokes think so. And it just gets on my nerves.” The tone of Roger’s voice was slightly less tense now.  
  
The man was now seated on a barstool next to him. Roger took a second to look at him a bit closer. Strands of long, dark hair framing his high, almost chiselled cheekbones, exotic-looking dark eyes, large front teeth. The man was by no means classically handsome. But there was a spark in his eyes, that now tempted him somehow, and Roger couldn’t ignore that the entire presence of this man was almost magnetic.  
  
In terms of physical pleasures, Roger wasn’t a picky man, really. A man, a woman, anyone could do as long as there was some kind of chemistry going on between them. But tonight, he’d been on edge and not really in the mood to hook up. Still, he couldn’t exactly make the man leave, but he didn’t want to abandon the rest of his beer. Well, he’d put up with the company, just for the next ten minutes or so, and then – off to the gig.  
  
“So, what brings you here?” Freddie prompted the conversation again.  
“Beer.” The blond answered, almost with a scoff.  
“Well, if that’s the case,” Freddie waved his hand at the bartender, “two more pints, please.”  
“No need.” Roger waved the bartender off. “I was just getting ready to leave.”  
“Where to?”  
“To one god-awful gig.” He rolled his eyes at the thought, now wondering why exactly he would mention that to this random man.  
  
Freddie felt a bit more content. Now he knew the reason for the man’s terrible mood. Also, it looked like the man was starting to mellow down a bit. If that could be said for someone who had a constant twitch in his leg.  
  
“So don’t go then.”  
“Hah, as if that’s a possibility. I’m playing there.” Roger scoffed. “And why do you care, anyway?”  
“Because I’d like to make your night better.” Freddie’s eyes lit up mischievously. He was right – the man was a musician. Freddie wanted to congratulate himself on getting that right. Also, for having an impeccable taste in men.  
“And what tells you that my night isn’t good already?” The man’s answer seemed cocky, which Freddie found almost comical after his mention of the ‘god-awful gig’ he had to get to.  
“The fact that you’re a bundle of nerves.”  
Roger raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” He started getting aggravated again.  
“Yeah.” Freddie gave the man a cheeky smirk.  
  
Roger felt a hand on his knee. He stopped his leg for a second to swat the stranger’s hand away, just to realize that said leg had been twitching without him noticing for – he didn’t even know for how long.  
  
“Oh fuck off.” He rolled his eyes at the man, but an amused chuckle escaped his mouth.  
Freddie grinned like a Cheshire cat. “See? Now, you can’t say I'm not useful.”  
“Well, you might be. But so is being sober and there is not much fun in that.”  
“Oh darling, that’s why I wanted to get us more drinks!” Freddie winked at a man.  
  
Roger felt his cheeks starting to burn. He was continuously losing the upper hand in this conversation, and by a bunch of witty quasi pick-up lines. His hand went for his bottle and he started chugging the beer again, this time keeping his eyes glued to the wall behind the bar. It was not very often that he had felt both irritated, intrigued and – it was painful to admit – sort of aroused by the same person, not to mention all three at the same time.  
  
“And what exactly are you doing here?”  
“I’m chatting up a certain hot blond.” The man shot him a playful look, waggling his eyebrows.  
“Well you’re not doing a very good job.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t say so, since you’re still keeping me company. Another drink, then?”  
  
Roger knew that he shouldn’t accept, but it was starting to seem like the man’s fiery eyes and teasing words kept him glued to the chair.  
“Come on,” the man almost purred now, “you’ve said it yourself – it’s not fun being sober!”  
  
Fuck it, he’d show up at that club with just enough time to check the tuning on the drums before the gig, that should do.  
  
Roger looked as the man next to him was half-whispering something to a bartender and soon there were two shots in front of them. He raised an eyebrow at the man.  
  
“I thought you were ordering beer?”  
“Well, darling, I never explicitly said that. Besides, shots are more fun.” Another wink from the man and Roger could felt heat starting to pool in his stomach. “Bottoms up?” The man finished his thought with a smirk, shot glass in his hand and Roger quickly complied, taking the small glass in his own hand.  
  
A warm sensation lightly buzzed through Roger’s body as he downed the drink. He looked at the man sitting next to him, dark brown eyes glinting mischievously at him. Alcohol slowly getting to him, Roger shot the man a lopsided smirk.  
  
“So, chatting up that blond, hm?” he prompted. “How’s that going?”  
Freddie chuckled lightly. “Well, for one, he’s not flipping me off anymore, so that’s something.”  
“Yeah?”  
“He actually accepted a drink from me.”  
“Oh really?” A sly grin tugged at the corners of Roger’s mouth as he slowly inched towards the man.  
“And now he’s looking at me as if he’s actually interested in me.”  
“Hmm, curious. Well, is he?”  
  
A thought about persistence paying off flashed through Freddie’s mind. He had not got laid (not yet? his mind gave a hopeful thought), hell, he hadn’t even kissed this bloke and yet, the dreamy, half-lidded blue eyes that were looking at him were the most rewarding thing he could have thought of at that moment. Not thinking for a second, Freddie leaned towards the man, grabbing him by the shirt, and placed a kiss to his lips, seemingly tame, but followed by a deep breath that gave away the passion contained in his gesture.  
  
When Roger pulled away from the kiss, the world seemed to spin slightly, the mix of alcohol, surprise and a rush of heat to his head, chest, crotch…his whole body seemed to respond to this unexpected pleasure. The man next to him seemed as surprised as he was, so Roger quickly pulled himself together.  
  
“You know, I would tell you to at least buy me a drink first, but you already did that.” Roger smirked.  
“Well, would you like another one then?”  
“What I would like…” he started, ending his thought with a kiss pressed to the man’s lips, slightly needier than the one before. His hands found the man’s shoulders, then slid to the back of his upper arms, trying to pull him closer into the kiss that quickly grew deeper and more passionate.  
  
Freddie felt his mind growing hazy with the pleasure, the heat pooling in his stomach. He couldn’t believe what a simple kiss had done to him, in comparison to the countless situations where the dirtiest dancing, groping or almost dry humping at the middle of the club dancefloor hadn’t left him half this wanting this quickly. He felt his trousers growing tighter by the second, the blond now almost moaning into his mouth. His cock twitched at the sensation and Freddie decided not to hold back.  
  
“Come here,” he said, standing up, his voice breathy after the kiss.  
“What, where do you…?”  
“Shh, just come.”  
  
Seeing as the man led him towards the bathroom, Roger’s face lit up with a grin.  
  
The two men hastily entered the bathroom, almost bumping against the walls as their hands roamed around each other’s bodies. Freddie led Roger backwards into one of the toilet cubicles, swiftly closing the door behind him.  
  
As soon as Freddie locked the cubicle door, they once again melted into each other's kisses. Their teeth kept clashing every so often but who cared about that, when each kiss was more passionate, more delicious than the one before. Tongues sliding against each other, an occasional nip at the bottom lip turning into a harder tug, both of them were almost unaware their breaths slowly started turning into moans. Freddie’s hips jerked forward into the blond as he sucked on his tongue lightly, making the other man gasp unexpectedly.  
  
“We should keep quiet,” Roger breathed out, flustered.  
“There’s no one to hear us”, Freddie replied quickly, “the place is almost empty.”  
  
Roger would have agreed out loud, but another kiss silenced him, and his mind jumped back onto the more important things. His hands were now roaming up and down the torso of the man who had his one hand gripping tightly at the hair at the back of his head, and another one nearing his arse dangerously. As a hand came down to grab onto one of his cheeks, Roger bucked his hips into the other man, which earned him a smack on his arse.  
  
“Hey!” he yelped, panting.  
“Okay, so you like” Freddie pulled lightly on his hair, “this, but you don’t…”  
“Sod off,” Roger said, his voice a combination of aggravation and arousal. His lips found the other’s lips again, kisses now bordering on aggressive. The small cubicle wasn’t nearly enough to contain the needy breaths and pants of the two men, as they touched, caressed, groped whatever of each other’s bodies they could reach.  
  
Freddie stopped the kisses for a second, to catch his breath, then he spoke, voice dark and almost hazy.  
  
“Got a condom, darling?”  
“I don’t…” Roger’s voice was breathy and slightly strained, “…I don’t bottom.”  
“Oh, but I do.”  
  
Roger’s eyebrows shot up. Not that he had been thinking about that (actually, not that he had expected the situation would go this far), but the straightforwardness of his answer surprised him a bit.  
  
Roger patted down his back pocket. He grinned as he felt the condom wrapper, now remembering that he hastily put one in his trousers when he left for the night. Sure, he had expected to use it with some girl after his gig, if he had his usual luck, but he couldn’t protest the current situation either, as he had this hot (and bothered) man in front of him, unzipping his own trousers and dragging them down.  
  
Freddie spread his legs and bent forward, holding onto the toilet cistern. The way his round arse was exposed made Roger’s pulse speed up, his cock growing harder in his still zipped up trousers.  
  
Roger spat on his fingers, then slid his index finger lightly down the man’s arse crack. As though in response, the man pushed his arse out a bit more, the obscene and needy gesture making Roger’s cheeks burn.  
  
Freddie sucked in a short breath, as he felt a finger circle his hole. He relaxed into the touch as the man’s finger slowly started entering his tightness. Although the sensation was already making his stomach flutter with arousal, he already wanted, no, needed more, his impatience wanting to urge on the man behind him.  
  
“Come on, blondie.” The words came out as a moan.  
“I’m not,” Roger pushed his finger deeper,” your blondie!” he pushed in again.  
  
A desperate, obscene whine escaped Freddie’s mouth, Roger’s mind swiftly realizing that the shove of finger into somebody’s arse was not an equivalent of a playful shove of a shoulder as a response to a cheeky comment. But the man’s reaction made his neglected cock strain against his trousers even harder. (Roger wondered how that was even possible at this point.) He pulled his hand away for a moment, spat on it again, and a second finger quickly joined the first inside the man, now slowly scissoring inside him. As the man’s moans started sounding less strained and more aroused, Roger added a third finger, the noise coming from the man sounding deliciously dirty.  
  
“Ah, yes, darling… fuck me.”  
“Oh, I will, I will,” Roger smirked, soon pulling his fingers out of the now properly stretched hole. Unzipping his jeans (finally!) and pulling them down, he quickly tore the condom wrapper, rolling the condom onto his almost painfully hard dick.  
  
Freddie felt the man slowly centre himself in front of his hole. His legs trembled at the feeling of the head slowly pushing inside him. The delicious stretch and tightness made both men throw their heads back with a moan, almost as if they were synchronized. As the blond bottomed out, Freddie groaned at the feeling of the cock inside him, that was now starting to move steadily, setting a teasingly slow pace.  
  
“Ahh, come on,” Freddie barely stopped himself before another ‘blondie’ almost left his mouth, “come on, give me more.”  
  
Heat was coursing through Roger’s body as he set a faster pace, fucking into the man who was a mess of short breaths, barely articulate curses and light moans that grew louder with every movement of Roger’s hips. His hands were planted onto the man’s hips, giving him the leverage for the long, deep thrusts that the black-haired man so obviously enjoyed.  
  
After a particularly sharp thrust upwards, Freddie felt as if a jolt of electricity coursed through his spine, a broken whine escaping his mouth.  
  
“Please don’t stop,” he panted, wondering how he was still able to form a coherent sentence. Another snap of the hips into him hit that sweet spot again, and he clutched harder onto the toilet. “Aaah, yeah…right there…yes…” He whimpered as the blonde kept fucking faster into him, “sorry...ahh…what is your nah-ahh-ame?”  
  
Roger stopped his movements for a second. “Come again?”  
Freddie chuckled lightly, taking a deep inhale to steady his breath. “Darling, I have yet to come.” His chest was heaving, breathing still a bit ragged. “But I asked for your name, so I’d know what to moan.”  
  
Roger’s cheeks blushed in surprise. “Uhm, I’m Roger. And you?” He took this sudden pause as a chance to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen over his face.  
“Freddie. Well, Roger, it’s nice to meet you, now could you please get back to...ahhh.” His words were interrupted as Roger started pumping into him again.  
“Quit,” he delivered a sharp thrust, “being,” and another one, “cheeky”, he breathed out, “Oh, I’ll give you a reason to use my name.” His hands were back on Freddie’s hips, gripping him almost painfully as he once again set the fast pace.  
  
As Roger’s hips slammed into his arse, Freddie wanted to moan his lungs out with Roger’s name, but the thought of the bathroom echo made him keep the praise to himself. That was, until Roger prompted him, not just with his thrusts that were becoming shorter and stronger, but with his words, too.  
  
“Come on now, Freddie”, he breathed, barely keeping the rhythm of his hips steady, “you wanted to yell my name, now let me hear you.”  
  
The hint of lust in his words made Freddie’s head spin with pleasure, the feeling of the cock thrusting deep inside him driving him towards the edge. He wondered for a moment if he’s going to be the first to come, his own cock still untouched but feeling like it’s going to burst any moment now.  
“Ahh, Roger…Rog…fuck, yes!”  
  
Roger’s heart skipped a beat on what sounded more like an ecstatic curse than his own name, a grunt escaping his lungs as he felt his orgasm nearing.  
  
“Freddie, I’m close…I’m gonna…”  
  
Freddie’s hand flew down to his cock, his legs now barely holding him up against the force of Roger slamming into him. A couple tugs were enough for him to come all over his hand, Roger promptly following him with his own orgasm.  
  
As his breath was steadying slowly, Roger pulled out of Freddie, quickly rolling the condom off his cock and tossing it into the rubbish. Freddie was already cleaning himself off meticulously. As Roger reached for the toilet paper, he lightly brushed against Freddie’s arm, the casual and light touch almost unexpected after the rough sex. Freddie’s heart swelled a little, as he looked at the man now zipping up his jeans and running a hand through his hair, the lopsided smirk back on his face.  
  
“So…” Roger breathed out, “this was nice, but I really have to go now. You know, to the gig.”  
“Ah, yes, the dreadful gig.” Freddie joked light-heartedly.  
  
They left the cubicle to wash their hands, Freddie then reaching for the air dryer, Roger almost flinching at the sound, quickly patting his own hands half-dry on his own trousers. As he headed towards the bathroom door, he heard Freddie speak up.  
  
“Could I come with you?”  
  
Roger turned around, surprised at the unexpected question, just to find Freddie nonchalantly styling his hair with his hands. “To the gig, I mean,” he added, as he caught the surprised look on Roger’s face in the mirror.  
  
“Uhh…I don’t…I don’t see why not.”  
  
It was unlike Roger to try and keep in touch with his casual sex partners for more than necessary, which usually was several minutes to several hours, depending on if he slept over or not. But as far as ‘usually’ went, this night had already had an interesting turn of events. So why not see what else could happen. Freddie was surely far from ordinary. So the rest of the night might be too.  
  
“Great. Then let’s go, dear.”  
  
Roger smirked. After all, at least his audience for tonight just became a lot more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Got some thoughts? Let me know in the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The atmosphere felt more like a lock-in than a late-night club, with people smoking in blatant defiance of the smoking ban. The wonderful aroma of about half a million cigarettes, stale beer and the general lack of the breathable air welcomed them to the club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, surprise, this little story is continuing! I was inspired with a lovely idea from quirkysubject so here is the next part of this story. I still don't know how long it will be - we'll just have to see what will these two be up to!
> 
> Huge thanks to quirkysubject for beta reading this chapter, and to nastally and mixsiee for their incredibly useful comments and suggestions!

“…and his crescendos sound so powerful too! You wouldn’t believe, the control he has over his drums!” Roger was waving his hands about in excitement, explaining the obviously great technique of a drummer he saw at that one gig a week ago. “Though he did drop his stick once as he twirled it. That never happens to me, neveeer!” He ended his sentence in almost a singsong voice, grinning with pride.  
  
Freddie walked alongside Roger, who hadn’t shut up for a second since they left that club. The blond kept babbling about what it took to be a good drummer, the current events on the London rock scene, the underground scene, the “scene” of bands that played covers (as he was playing in three of those), the problems of finding a well-paying gig… His excited remarks must have been fuelled by that last shot they’d had before they left, both of them deciding that a bit more alcohol couldn’t harm anyone, especially if the gig to follow was going to be as terrible as Roger had claimed.  
  
Truth be told, Freddie had pretty much lost Roger’s train of thought the moment he got started on the importance of the precise playing of a hi-hat. He tuned in every once in a while, just barely picking up on the next topic that came up in Roger’s – obviously very busy – mind. It was not easy to follow a tipsy man who could go on and on about his passions and concerns, especially while Freddie himself was also slightly drunk.  
  
His own mind, however, was occupied by other, very important things. Like the twinkle in Roger’s eyes when the street lights hit the angle just right as they passed by. Or the way his walking pace got gradually slower or quicker, depending on what mood was driving his current thought. Oh, and the fringe that bounced lightly around his face, the flash of white teeth whenever he grinned through a scoff, the quick hand gestures as he demonstrated drumming techniques, followed by ridiculously cute accompanying noises.  
Freddie chuckled at himself. It was probably the alcohol (and a quick, good shag) speaking, but he was falling head over heels for this man. Such passion for what he was doing, even in conditions that, apparently, were far from ideal, the slight sharpness to his words, whatever he was talking about… and those piercing blue eyes. Freddie was glad about the upcoming gig. However bad it might be, he could spend the next couple of hours just staring at the band’s pretty drummer. He’d be more than fine with that.  
  
“Here we are, just around the corner!” Roger broke off his current rant to notify Freddie. “I told you this would be no more than a ten-minute walk!”  
Freddie was glad they were nearing their destination. The chill of the night was slowly getting to him, despite the quick pace the blond had set.  
They turned a corner and there was no obvious sign that there might be an entrance to a club. The only giveaway that something might be happening were the muffled sounds of drums and a guitar coming from the underground level of a fairly nondescript house.

  


\---

This really is a literal basement, Roger thought once again, rolling his eyes as he started going down the narrow and steep staircase, Freddie following several steps behind. The first time they had come here to arrange the gig, _something _had told him that the venue might not be the greatest ever. Was it the smallest stage possible for a group of four people? Or the room with the low ceiling and seemingly no acoustics? Or maybe the furniture that might be considered either vintage or simply dumpster-ready? Oh, the mysteries of a simple human hunch.  
  
Still, the places where you could have a guaranteed gig once a week as a new band were rare. Better not risk complete starvation by abandoning this gig before he could find a more decent place to play. Not that he hadn’t tried, but it seemed like half of London’s population were aspiring musicians at the moment.  
  
The atmosphere felt more like a lock-in than a late-night club, with people smoking in blatant defiance of the smoking ban. The wonderful aroma of about half a million cigarettes, stale beer and the general lack of the breathable air welcomed them to the club. Why the hell would anybody want to come here at all? Roger took Freddie’s hand in his own, trying not to lose him in the crowd, and turned right, into the room that served as a backstage area of sorts.  
“Hey man! Where have you been, you’re late!”  
  
__

__\---_ _

__

__Freddie excused himself for a second, leaving the room to go and pick up a couple of beers – it was Roger’s idea and it made Freddie wonder how he would deal with the gig. Hopefully, he knew what he was doing.  
Still, Roger wasn’t the only one who had to be careful with adding more drinks to his system. Freddie himself could barely take in all of the heavy atmosphere of this place, the alcohol still coursing through his body. If he were at a house party, or having a round of drinks at his own place, the buzz in his head would have led to an impromptu performance or an animated telling of a good story, rounds of laughter following inevitably. But the unknown crowd, the dim lights and the heavy air only made him nauseous.  
  
The crowd pushed him around as he went towards the narrow hall, heading back into the backstage area. Closing the door behind him, he stopped in his tracks to find Roger yelling his lungs out at his band mates.  
  
“…just enough time to check on the tuning! Although the kit sounds like utter rubbish, so there isn’t much to check, anyway! And you’re probably perfectly fucking ready to play! Finally tuned your damn bass properly, huh, Daniel?”  
“Fuck off, Taylor.”  
“So you want me to fuck off, yeah? I’ll bloody fuck off then!” Roger pulled at Freddie’s hand, curt head nod saying “let’s get out of here”. Freddie complied, confused for a moment with the situation growing hostile so fast.  
“Oh come on, Rog! You know we need this gig!”  
  
Roger turned back to the three blokes that stood there. All of them had their arms crossed, brows furrowed, while one of them tapped his leg nervously.  
“Yeah, you need it, and you need me, too. So, still gonna complain about me being ten minutes late?” There was an uncomfortable silence, filled only with the muffled sound of whining vocals from the band currently on stage. “I thought so. Anyway, we don’t start for another twenty.”  
  
Freddie shot him an uncomfortable look. Roger mouthed “sorry” at him, shrugging his shoulders and frowning in apology, then went on to unpack the drum sticks from his backpack. Freddie sat awkwardly on a nearby chair. It seemed like nobody paid much attention to him, which he was honestly thankful for, after the row he had just witnessed.  
Roger was now seated too, lightly drumming a quick rhythm on his thigh. As Freddie started to take the first proper look at the room, the door opened and a red-haired girl with heavy eyeliner came in, bringing in four beers on a tray.  
  
“Ah great, you’re all here now. Hey Rog, how’s it going?” She winked at him, putting the tray with the beers on a nearby table. “Got any plans for after the gig?” Roger chuckled awkwardly, his eyes travelling from the girl back to his thigh, his drumming now slowed down, the hits on his leg irregular and sparse. “Yeah, I’m probably gonna go home and sleep, since we’re gonna end at around 5 am…”  
“Ah, Roggie, you’re a geezer all of the sudden?” A short, skinny bloke with freckles piped up from the corner.  
“Fuck off, Max.” Roger’s voice was quiet and small.  
“Yeah, Rog, I don’t recall that being a problem before”, the girl chimed in with a snicker.  
Another voice joined from the corner. “Hey Kate, I don’t intend to sleep after, if you’re interested.”  
Kate’s snicker turned into a scoff. “Good for you, Dan.”  
  
Throughout the lively banter, Freddie felt his cheeks heat up. He wanted to get up and leave at once, the idea of coming to the gig not looking very smart now. First the argument, now this girl, Kate, who obviously had something going on with Roger (he couldn’t help but recall the sex he had just had with him, after a whole ten minutes of knowing him). And for all he knew, Roger might not even be out to his band mates, so what would come of that? The night was quickly starting to take a very unpleasant turn, his impulsive idea of deciding to came along for a fun night with a bloke he shagged quickly and started fancying even quicker, now seeming completely wrong.  
He was about to get up, but the door opened again.  
  
“Come on guys, you’re up!’ A fat, bald man with a beard and a leather vest with patches and pins yelled from the door, obviously angry.  
“Don’t we start in another, what, fifteen minutes?” The bloke named Max asked in confusion.  
“Only if you want to play to an empty club. These fucking idiots ended their gig early! Come on, get on the stage.” The man turned around furiously. “This is the last fucking…” The loud bang from the door closing behind him cut his words short.  
  
Confused looks were exchanged throughout the room for a moment, and then the musicians picked up their instruments. As though in apology, Roger frowned at Freddie, who was still sitting awkwardly, but now reconsidering his previous intention to leave. He felt sorry about Roger’s night turning out a bit rough, with all the yelling and stress going on, and after all, he was the one who asked to come to the gig. The least he could do, he thought, was to stay and give Roger some kind of support.  
Kate ruffled her hair and started heading towards the door. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it now. Good luck with the gig! Bang those drums nicely, Rog!” Another wink at him and she was out of the room.  
  
Roger’s face was now flaming red, but there was a small, smug smirk that spoke of some good times he had obviously spent with her. Freddie felt his stomach tightening up again.  
Roger cleared his throat awkwardly. “Hey Freddie, I’m really sorry about…”  
“Come on, Rog!” The bassist yelled, now standing at the door, the noise of the people waiting for the next act entering the room.  
“Wait for a bloody second, Dan!” Roger yelled back at him, turning to Freddie, voice a bit softer. “Listen, I’m sorry about the chaos, really, just…wait for me after the gig, okay?”  
“I thought you were going to sleep after the gig.” Freddie’s voice had the slightest bitter edge to it.  
“Ah, now you’re going to pester me with that, too, huh? Great, then you don’t have to wait up.” Roger’s mood had quickly turned even more sour. He sounded just as angry as when they had met back at that club. And once again, Roger was taking it out on him, only now he was the reason for that bad mood.  
Freddie felt as if he had been slapped. “But I…”  
“Listen, I’ve got a gig to play. You can stay, or you can leave.”  
And with that, he was out of the door.  
“Come on, I’m locking up the room!” Kate was standing in the door once again, tapping her watch dramatically.  
Freddie took in a deep breath._ _

__  
_ _

\---

“More days to come, new places to go, I’ve got to leave, it’s time for a show”  
The drums were building up the sound for the chorus to come in. A beat early, someone in the audience screeched “Here I am” at the top of their lungs. The bass skipped a beat. The drum didn’t.  
“Here I am, rock you like a hurricane!”  
The rhythm section was back on track.

  


\---

Freddie was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, nodding his head to the rhythm absent-mindedly, his thoughts not at all following the poor rendering of Alice Cooper’s Poison happening on the stage.  
  
_You’re not gonna be fucking exclusive after one single shag. And he doesn’t have to fucking explain himself for what he did or did not have going on with that girl. “I thought you were going to sleep after the gig” – marvellous, Fred, just marvellous. Judging him for sleeping around (if that even is what he did with her?) minutes after you just shagged him! How very smart! And after a fight with his band and that manager, or whoever he is. Yeah, great timing, Freddie, inviting yourself to a gig, and then offending the bloke. That Kate sure wouldn’t get on his case like that. And to think that…”_  
  
“And for our last song tonight,” the high-pitched feedback from the microphone jerked Freddie back to reality, “we’re going with an all-time classic, and probably a favourite for a few of you lovely ladies out there.” The singer winked in what must have been an attempt at flirting with the audience. “So, here’s Wonderwall”.  
A couple of drunk girls started screaming like they were about to witness the absolute best performance of the song ever.  
  
Freddie glanced at the drum kit, at Roger, who once again looked completely engrossed in playing. That became kind of his mantra for the whole gig, alternately looking on as Roger banged his heart out on the drums and berating himself over that exchange they’d had before the gig started. Why was he waiting for him to finish the gig? Yes, to apologise, but would Roger even care about that?  
  
_You had a nice one-time thing with a cute bloke and you just had to push it and follow him to a gig and look where that got you! That just made complete sense, didn’t it?_  
  
The last song of the night, that damned Wonderwall, seemed to go on forever, Freddie thought, as the wailing lyrics of the chorus blasted through the crowd for what felt like the millionth time. Finally, the guitarist repeatedly strummed what was supposed to be the final chord, Roger joining him with the cymbals and finally the song came to an end.  
“That’s all for tonight, thanks for being such a marvellous audience! See you again next Wednesday!”  
  


__

__

___\---_ _ _

_____ _

_____ _

Roger brushed sweaty strands of hair from where they were clinging to his face. Even if a gig had a boring set list such as this one, he always gave his all while performing. Extending his arms upwards (that after-gig soreness always felt weirdly pleasant), he stood up to stretch a bit more. His band mates were already talking to their friends who had come towards the stage, but Roger liked to have a minute to himself after a gig before he engaged in a conversation with his friends, or a cute girl or two who somehow always happened to be there. He sat back down at the drum kit, letting the banter from multiple people blend in his ears, just barely listening to what they were saying.  
  
“Great gig, man!”  
“Yeah, we nailed it!”  
“You should add Seven Nation…”  
“…and my old strings...”  
“…is waiting for you. Hey! Roger! You listening?”  
Roger blinked twice at Max. “What?”  
“I said that bloke you came with is still here. He’s probably waiting for you.”  
Oh shit. Freddie.  
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be there in a second.”  
  
Roger shot a look towards the audience, most of the people either finishing their drinks or already leaving. He realized he hadn’t remembered to look for him in the audience even once since the gig had started. Why did he… Oooh fuck. That thing with the club manager. And Kate. Fuck.  
  
His eyes finally found Freddie, who was standing at the side of the room. There was a polite close-mouthed smile and a nod coming from him when their eyes met and Roger walked over towards him.

  


\---

Freddie’s mind was racing once again. Not sure what he was supposed to say at this point, (Congratulations? Sorry? Something else?) he tried to brace himself by standing just a bit straighter as Roger approached him. He attempted a smile in hopes his nerves wouldn’t be showing.  
  
“Hi there, congrats on the gig! Wasn’t half as bad as you said it would be.” Freddie chuckled lightly, feeling thankful that he kept at least some wits about him while being so nervous.  
“Ah, but the damn set list…ugh. Anyway, thanks!” Roger replied with a grin. Shitty set list or not, he still looked damned pleased with himself after that gig.  
“It wasn’t that bad, seriously.” Freddie realised he had just repeated himself. So much for staying cool in an awkward situation. “I mean, you were great on the drums, really!” Nice save, Freddie.  
“Thanks, man!” There was a moment of silence. Roger took a small breath. “Listen, about all that, before the gig…”  
“It’s okay, darling, really.” Here it comes, Freddie thought, the awkward…whatever happens now.  
“Nah, it’s not. That wasn’t cool. And I wanted to say I’m…erm, I wasn’t exactly fair, bringing you here with me and then just leaving you like that. Let me buy you a coffee. My treat.”  
  
Freddie blinked in confusion. He had just spent two hours overthinking every possible outcome of this – the awkward “yeah, see you around”, the possible “why are you still here” or even being completely ignored. But seeing a glowing, grinning Roger in front of him, just short of saying sorry to him, asking him to go for a coffee even – that was anything but expected.

“A coffee?” Freddie frowned slightly, furrowing his brows.  
“Yeah, or a tea, or anything you’d fancy, really.” Freddie’s confused expression threw Roger off for a second. Maybe he just wasn’t interested in that anymore, after what had happened before the gig.  
“Uhh…okay.” Freddie sheepishly shrugged and smiled. “Yeah, coffee sounds nice.”  
Yeah, definitely not interested, Roger figured. This was just politeness.  
“So, are you free on Friday afternoon?” Freddie prompted after a second.  
Huh. Or maybe it wasn’t.  
“Y-yeah, Friday sounds great.” Now Roger probably appeared like the confused one. He quickly collected himself. “Okay, so what’s your number then?”  
  


\---

The sun was already up when Roger finally left the club, packing up the drums and the equipment and the usual after-gig talk with the band taking a bit longer than it usually did. Walking down the street tiredly, his soft bed calling to him, the contrast of the morning sun compared to the dim lights back in the club making him squint, a thought flashed through his sleep-fogged mind.  
_Wait. Why did I just invite my one-night stand for a coffee? ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Got any thoughts? Share them with me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, being single had its perks. Tons of it. So far, Roger hadn’t once questioned his decision to give up dating a couple years ago and enjoy the freedom of finding a sex partner every now and then (which seemed to be really often and that made him a bit proud). He was well-liked in his circle of friends. He had a bunch of acquaintances he knew considered him cool. The girls swooned just looking at him, the boys either rolled their eyes in jealousy or tried to hit on him.  
> None of those girls or boys ever asked to go on a gig with him. To his own gig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the third part of this story! When I started this off, it was just supposed to be a one-shot, but as I type this there are 50 kudos and nearly 500 hits on this little thing, and I just want to say - thank you! I hope you're gonna enjoy this chapter!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to wonderful quirkysubject for betaing this chapter and being so helpful with the details, and lovely nastally for her britpicking - sometimes, it's the little things that make my writing better ;)

It was afternoon, or at least it seemed so, judging by the angle of the sunbeams hitting the bed, shining directly onto Roger’s face.  
  
_Fuck. These damned late gigs._  
  
Roger stretched his arms lazily. The dull pain in his upper arms and back reminded him of how aggressively he had been hitting the drums last night. With all the stress that happened, that fucking row with the band again, the club manager, always on edge, Freddie, Kate…  
Freddie. And that coffee he had promised him.  
  
_Nice one, Rog. You remember what happened the last time you took a girl you shagged at a party on something that resembled a date?_  
  
Oh, he damn well remembered. She had seemed cool the night they had met, after several shots of some shitty vodka and a joint she had shared with him at some house party. She was a good shag too, just a tad too whiny, but who cares about that when you’re drunk and slightly high. They even had a nice little chat after that, about aliens and stuff. A friendly drink the next day had seemed like a good idea in the moment.  
But the message he had got after that drink…  
  
`Baby, are you up for a movie tomorrow night?`  
  
Baby? Nope, that was not happening. He intended to just be friendly, not to start a whole relationship after a single drink, thank you very much. Several awkward messages (and a phone call from her – “But I thought we vibed so well!”) later, Roger had sworn to himself to keep the one-night stands to their intended purpose, and not meet those people again after. But there he was, ecstatic about the success of the gig last night, and he just had to offer that coffee in apology. So much about thinking in advance.  
  
Granted, he’d never actually had a one-night stand such as that of last night with a bloke. Make out sessions, sure. Getting the other bloke off – and vice versa, yeah, occasionally. Same went for the blowjobs. But actual sex? This was the first time for him and Roger was surprised by how easily it had come to him, not overthinking it for even a second as Freddie had asked him for a condom, then bending over the toilet like that, his bare arse almost wiggling at him…  
  
Roger’s hand slid down towards his crotch, almost on its own accord, his cock twitching at the very thought of what had happened last night. No wonder he had agreed to that shag, Freddie’s suggestiveness was really something else.  
  
His hand gripped the lightly straining cock through his briefs. The image of Freddie’s bare arse flashed in his mind, Roger trying to recall the warm feeling of his tightness when he had pushed inside him. He quickly pulled his cock out and started stroking himself, trying to silence himself as his own skilful tugs made him whine, the pace growing quicker by the second. His mind replayed the breathy moans Freddie had let out last night and Roger bucked his hips upward into his hand, clenching the fist almost too tightly around himself, his other hand sliding up and down his chest, fingernails lightly grazing the sensitive skin, Roger wishing he could hold on to someone’s… _Freddie’s_ hips instead. Just to force himself inside a little bit harder. Just to try and hit that goddamn perfect angle right. Just to hear him call his name again like that…  
  
A breath hitched in Roger’s throat as he spilled into his hand, chest heaving quickly, his head spinning with pleasure. Way to start the day. He took in a few deeper breaths, then glanced at the clock on his night stand. 14:09. Right.  
  
Groaning, he took his mobile phone in his hands. _Let’s get this over with._ He quickly typed up a text, then stretched and slowly got up from the bed, hoping his roommate wasn’t in the flat and there was enough hot water for a long shower.

  
\---

“You too have a nice day, darling!” Freddie smiled as the customer left his little boutique. One more pair of trousers sold, which was always a good thing. He could celebrate that with a quick lunch break soon. Or a coffee. After all, he had slept just a bit over three hours.  
Freddie rearranged a pair of the shoes on a shelf minutely. It was probably the tenth time that day, as it was a new pair and he wanted to show them off to the customers the best he could. Still, he couldn’t find the exact angle he liked. Freddie sighed and started walking through the shop to see if something else needed to be rearranged.  
His mobile phone chimed with a short notification for a text.  
  
`Roger drummer Taylor: Still up for that coffee tomorrow?`  
  
Freddie grinned to himself. He had been hoping for that text all morning, although he knew that Roger was probably still asleep after such a gig. More realistically, he had assumed he probably wouldn’t get that message until tomorrow. Or even not get it at all.  
  
Still, his negative expectations were once again proven wrong. The text was here, Roger clearly still wanting to have that coffee with him.  
  
`Yeah, sure!`  
Delete delete delete. Too eager.  
`Yeah, sure.`  
Too plain.  
No, wait, why would that be plain? Freddie cursed his indecisive, insecure mind. The wit and the bravery he had in real-life conversation, where he could use his eyes, lips, body language, especially when fuelled with some alcohol, all of that seemed to disappear once he was supposed to text someone, every word of the message questioned and then questioned again. Flirting in real time was so much easier, especially when his mood was right. Texting was just pure torture.  
`Yeah`, no, wait, why “yeah”, `Yes`, no, that is so overly formal, `Yup`, come on, who in their right mind would reply with “yup”?  
`Okay, see you Friday.`  
Yeah, that’s better. Or is it?  
Freddie’s thumb hovered over the send button.

  
\---  


`Freddie club gig: Sure, I’ll see you Friday.`  
  
Roger groaned. Why was he forcing himself to do this? Fuck politeness, Freddie was a good shag, he was probably a nice bloke too, but did Roger really need another scenario of after-sex clinginess for God knows how long?  
No. Of course not.  
Then why did his heart skip a beat when the message came?  
  
Roger shed his briefs, walking through the flat bare-arsed. His roommate was probably still at university, and even if he wasn’t, his own half of the rent should grant him some rights to nudity.  
He’d respond to that message a bit later. Don’t wanna seem too eager.  
Where should they go for that coffee, though?  
  
A stream of water splashed onto the shower floor, hitting Roger’s feet. Too cold. Adjusting the water temperature, Roger moved under the stream of water, humming the unknown melody that hadn’t left his mind in weeks.  
Squirting shampoo onto his palm, he started scrubbing his scalp lightly, the feeling good enough to make him groan. Warm water did wonders for his tense muscles, and he kept humming lightly, his thoughts escaping again.  
  
Really, why didn’t he just ghost that conversation, if he really dreaded the possibility of Freddie latching onto him and pestering him for a while?  
  
Because he hoped this might work out somehow, even though it was hard to admit that.  
Because girls could be fussy. And they were pretty, with their eyes and legs and tits and all but they could also be so much work! Maybe blokes were easier?  
Because his mind was tickling him. He had declared himself bisexual a while ago, but he never actually went through with that completely, to see how some kind of emotional attachment to a man might work out.  
  
Yes, being single had its perks. Tons of it. So far, Roger hadn’t once questioned his decision to give up dating a couple years ago and enjoy the freedom of finding a sex partner every now and then (which seemed to be really often and that made him a bit proud). He was well-liked in his circle of friends. He had a bunch of acquaintances he knew considered him cool. The girls swooned just looking at him, the boys either rolled their eyes in jealousy or tried to hit on him.  
None of those girls or boys ever asked to go on a gig with him. To his own gig. (That’s not entirely true, he had to admit. A few girls did. But that was just to end up in bed with him, and never to ask about another one of his concerts again.) And for sure, no one ever waited up for him like Freddie did, especially not when the situation had turned so awkward, which surely couldn’t have been pleasant for someone who barely knew him.  
  
Roger sighed. No way was he giving up his freedom for a bloke that was probably just a fair mix of politeness and alcohol last night. This would just be a coffee, and they’d end it on that.  
Several minutes later, Roger was out of the shower, the fresh scent of his shampoo making him inhale deeply as he sprawled across the bed again.

  
\---  


`Roger drummer Taylor: Great, what time and when?`  
Oh no, was the decision really on him?  
The doorbell chimed as a couple of teenagers entered the store.  
“Hi dears! Can I help you?”  
“It’s okay, we’re just looking around.” The girl that looked the younger of the two was trying to stifle her laughter. Freddie smiled at her politely and settled into a chair behind his counter, watching as the two girls giggled, browsing through the racks. He frowned slightly. It was not unusual to see teenage kids pointing to his designs from outside of the store, obviously laughing and commenting on the clothes in the shop window, but this was the first time in the couple of months since he opened his little boutique that someone came in and snickered while looking through the clothes he designed. It didn’t matter if the people in case were just some fifteen-year olds, it stung because he’d already had some negative feedback and comments. From his actual friends.  
  
_“Come on, who’s gonna buy ‘70s glam rock inspired clothes?”  
“That’s just too ridiculous to wear, honestly! But perhaps it would work as a Halloween costume?”  
“Oh this is…interesting. Yeah.”_  
  
But what was even worse than the actual doubtful comments, were the forced smiles of the others. Freddie couldn’t stand to see his friends lying to his face, giving him half-hearted compliments in an attempt to sound a bit more optimistic. That felt almost like a betrayal.  
  
There were some positive comments, too. A bunch of people he knew told him they really thought that he was doing something brave and cool and fashion forward. A couple of his friends even bought his designs and wore them occasionally, for which Freddie couldn’t be more grateful. A few of them asked if he needed help spreading the word of his new shop. It really wasn’t so bad; new people came into his shop every day and bought his clothes fairly regularly. His attempt of starting a business was off to a promising start.  
Still, every doubtful word, every quirked brow or hidden snicker was cutting painfully into Freddie’s mind, making him question himself. Was his choice of opening this boutique really that smart? Would his beginners’ luck in the job last?  
  
The bell on the door chimed again. Freddie jerked from his thoughts to see the two girls leaving his shop. “Bye!” One of them called out to him as they went through the door.  
“Bye darlings!”  
Yeah, it was time for that lunch and some coffee.

  
\---  


Roger’s cell phone chimed again.  
`Freddie club gig: Sometime after 8, is that okay? You can choose the place.`  
Shit. He forgot that Freddie maybe had a day job and wouldn’t be able to meet him earlier in the afternoon.  
`Nope, 8 is no good for me. I have a gig at 9.  
Freddie club gig: What about Saturday then?  
3pm, is that good?  
Freddie club gig: Great!  
Freddie club gig: I know a nice place in Hoxton.`

  
\---  


Fuck. Had he really just double-texted him? Freddie glanced at his watch. Half past two. Just a few more hours and he’d be able to go home and sleep. Despite all the excitement with Roger, he was barely fighting off his drowsiness, his eyes burning lightly. At least it was a bit of a slow day, so not many people were here to witness him stopping himself from yawning. He glanced at a mirror. His hair was a mess, he thought. His skin too. That was the first and the last time he went to a gig that late, Freddie swore to himself.  
  
His phone let out another short signal for the message. And then another one. Did Roger just double-text him back?  
  
`Roger drummer Taylor: Great, just text me the address.  
Bri: Hey, got any plans for Saturday afternoon? Deaky and I are planning on jamming a bit at my place, wanna drop by?`  
  
Oh shit. Those jam sessions, however rare they were, due to the busy lives of his friends and him, were his absolute favourite pastime.  
  
`Any way we could postpone that, Bri? Sunday afternoon, and I’ll buy us pizza (veggie for you!) and some beer, too.`  
  
Another customer entered the shop.

  
\---  


“Please don’t burn please don’t burn please…aaaah fuck!”  
  
Roger sprinted from his room to the kitchen, just to find the stew on the stove smoking, the smell obviously indicating it very much burned.  
  
“Sorry mom”, he said to no one in particular. This was far from the first time for him to over-heat (how he enthusiastically called it) the food his mother sent him occasionally. He sighed. At least the stew at the top could probably be salvaged.  
  
The entrance door opened and his roommate came in.  
  
“Hey, Rog, you haven’t burned down the flat, have you?”  
“Hello to you too, Charles. And no, the flat is still alive and well. My mother’s stew, on the other hand…” He sighed, grabbing a spoonful of meat and thick sauce from the top, tasting it carefully. “Whew, it’s still fine.”  
  
Charles plopped down on the worn-down sofa in the middle of the flat. Roger joined him a minute later, slumping in the armchair, a steaming bowl in his hands.  
“Mmm…I couldn’t ruin this completely if I tried.” He smacked his lips dramatically, enjoying his food.  
“You sure?”  
“Sod off.” Roger laughed, swatting his hand playfully at him. “How was uni?”  
“Terrific”, Charles spoke indifferently. “Thank God it’s Friday tomorrow. Got any plans tomorrow night?”  
“Yeah, I got that one gig, why?”  
“Remember I told you I’d bring some people over? You’re still fine with that, right?”  
“Yeah, sure.” His roommate’s friends were laid back people that mostly chatted about video games and tech stuff in general, but every once in a while, Roger joined them while they hung out, having a drink or two and just letting his mind cool down. It wasn’t too bad to spend some time with people who weren’t his own friends from time to time, taking a break from his own life for an hour or two.  
  
“Any chance you’ll be bringing some girl home instead soon? It’s been a while for you, hasn’t it?” Roger teased him lightly.  
“Hey, not all people have your _je ne sais quoi_ charm!”  
“And not all people are half French, man! Don’t use your language skills on me, go and _je ne sais quoi_ some nice girl and you’ll see.” Roger winked at him.  
“You’re using the term wrong!”  
“You’re using your _je ne sais quoi_ wrong!”  
Charles grabbed a cushion from the sofa. “Stop it, or you’ll be losing all of that stew!”

  
\---  


` Bri: Ughhh, okay. Deaky said it’s fine by him but please don’t postpone again!`  
  
Freddie grinned. He hadn’t told them about Roger yet – flaunting his loverboy successes (how Brian endearingly nicknamed his habits of hooking up) wasn’t nearly as satisfying over texts as it was in real life. Still, he wanted to at least hint what this was about.  
  
`Well, I may or may not have had some fun with a hot bloke last night…`  
  
Okay, maybe that was a bit more than just a hint.  
  
`Bri: Oh you don’t say. And what, now there’s a follow-up date?  
Kind of. But I’ll tell you about that on Sunday 😉  
Bri: Over beer and pizza, remember?`  
Freddie smiled fondly at that message.  
`Yes dear, over beer and pizza.`

  
\---  


Friday breezed by for Roger, after a slow start of the day (he never was a morning person – sue him) and the afternoon that was used for the long overdue tidying of his room, although a fair portion of that time was spent on headbanging and playing air guitar to some ‘80s rock. Before he noticed, the sun was already starting to set outside and he quickly started getting ready for his gig tonight.  
  
No pre-gig drinking now, he thought to himself, chuckling. After all, the gig was supposed to end at midnight, and he would probably get a pint with his bandmates after that, anyway. Also, Charlie’s friends would be coming by. So that would probably be a couple beers more for him, when he got back home.  
  
Earlier that day, Freddie had sent him the address of that café they were supposed to meet at tomorrow. The funny thing was, he was supposed to play a gig at that very same café next Tuesday. Maybe, if that coffee goes well, he could invite him to that, too? No room full of smoke and a drunken crowd, no staying up until 5 in the morning, also, no Kate to bring on the awkward comments. And the overall atmosphere was a bit better, the band too…  
  
He scoffed, almost wanting to slap himself. So much for not seeing him again after the coffee. Why was he trying to plan so much in advance? This whole “first shag with a guy” thing was really getting to him, he figured. Or was it the fact that Freddie seemed really nice?  
  
Roger caught himself getting stuck in the same loop of thoughts he fell into several times today already. He was slowly starting to go on his own nerves, as all the overthinking had been leading him exactly nowhere for the whole day. Well, he might as well stop thinking about how it all could play out. First, he’d get to know Freddie a bit better tomorrow. Then he’d see what happened next.  
  
He smirked, hanging his backpack onto one shoulder and went towards the door, whistling that one melody that was still stuck in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Got any thoughts, impressions, comments? Let me know, I'll be glad to hear them!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Seven Daffodils was a really nice place, Freddie thought. The small café was bursting with eclectic chic, each of the tables, chairs and sofas a cool, unique piece of furniture (most of them thrifted, as one of the baristas had once told Freddie), with elegant lines and bright, warm colours. With all the paintings from local artists hanging on the walls, it doubled as a sort of gallery, so it was one of Freddie’s favourite places to spend the afternoon at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the next part of what had so far been my main occupation during this pandemic! I hope you're gonna enjoy it!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to quirkysubject and nastally for being the greatest betas and helping me with all my language-related questions <3

“I hope that someone gets my,  
I hope that someone gets my,  
I hope that someone gets my  
message in a bottle, yeah.”  
  
Roger was nodding to the beat, lips pouting lightly, his drumming light and precise, following the toned-down chorus of the song. For a small, acoustic gig in a pub, it wasn’t going too badly; a few people were gathered near the stage. Several others, seated at the tables, were nodding their heads or singing along to the song. An occasional laugh could be heard, coming from the groups of people that had probably gathered to celebrate the incoming weekend with a pint or two.  
  
The song came to an end. Roger glanced at his setlist. Just one more song and he’d get himself a pint, too.  
  
The singer took a second to drink some water. Roger glanced quickly at the audience, when he noticed a familiar bunch of curls.  
“No way, May!” he grinned to himself at the cheesy rhyme.  
  
It had been ages since he had last seen Brian, his almost-roommate from when he first came to London. Back then, Roger had thought he was quite lucky, finding a seemingly cool roommate on the internet, who had really turned out to be an interesting bloke, and nice to live with. But they had lived together only for a couple of weeks before Roger’s parents had found him a “better” place that friend of a friend of a friend was renting, and for a really good price…  
  
Suffice it to say, Roger had moved in and then out of that place in record time, as it turned out the reasons for the low rent were many – hidden mildew, mice, terrible heating, all sorts of troubles, really. But by that time his previous place was already occupied by a new bloke, which meant he had lost both a decent flat and a good roommate, both of which were hard to come by in London these days. But he got lucky and the situation had sorted itself out when he had found a new (and a more liveable) flat with an okay bloke to share it with.  
  
Roger set the tempo for the last song of the night, some ballad by The Smiths. Relying on muscle memory, as he had played this song countless times, he tried to remember when was the last time he had seen Brian. Maybe half a year ago, when they had run into each other on the street? And then they had never gone out for that beer like they said they would. Well here was the chance for that now.  
  
Apparently, Brian had noticed him behind the drum kit now, because he waved in Roger’s direction. Roger grinned at him, then quickly focused back on the song.  
“There is a light that never goes out, there is a light that never goes out…”  
Roger scoffed lightly, the repetitive lyrics quickly starting to sound stale in his ears. _My music sure won’t repeat nearly as much, once I actually sit down and write something._  
  
As the song came to an end and the singer thanked the audience, the lights on the stage dimmed and Roger quickly came off the stage, looking for Brian where he had seen him a minute ago, a grin on his face when he found him.  
  
“No way, Brian May! I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you? How’s that doctorate going?”  
The curly-haired man grinned back at him, his usual, soft voice barely overpowering the noisy pub.  
“It’s all good, I’m also working as a maths teacher now, you know. What about you, how’s the music world treating you?”  
“Eh, it’s fine, I guess. Could be better. A teacher, really, how’s that going?”  
“Oh the kids are brilliant! I’ve been lucky, I’m teaching a really good class, you know, they…”  
  
A shout of Brian’s name came from the nearby table.  
  
“Hey, Bri, we’re gonna go in a minute, Kenny’s invited us to his place. Wanna come with?”  
“Yeah, just a minute!” Brian shrugged apologetically at Roger. “Sorry, I promised them I’d join them for the night. They say my thesis is getting to me and I need a break.” He chuckled. “But we could go for a beer one of these days, hm?”  
“Yeah, sure! Oh you know what? I’m playing another small gig on Tuesday, in the Seven Daffodils, in Hoxton, you should come by and we can catch up after that. What do you think?”  
“I know that place, it’s nice! Sure, that sounds good. See you on Tuesday then?”  
“Yeah, see you!”  
  
Roger grinned once again and headed backstage.

  
\---  


“Not this one…no…nooo…ugh, I need to clean this out urgently!”  
  
Freddie huffed as he went through his wardrobe, the closet barely accommodating all the neatly hanged clothes of different patterns, cuts and materials. Countless shoes and ankle boots were scattered throughout the floor; an open box of jewellery full to the brim with various bracelets and pendants sat by the bed; a couple of silken scarves were hanging from the corner of a big, vintage mirror.  
  
“Where did I…oh there you are!” With a triumphant grin, he pulled out a black jacket, embroidered with yellow flowers – his pride and joy, fished out at a flea market. It hadn’t been cheap; the stand owner had apparently known what a precious vintage piece he’d had.  
  
He put the jacket carefully next to the black bell bottoms neatly laid out on the bed. His eyes then fell to the tight jeans and a colourful shirt with an intricate pattern next to them. Freddie sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically.  
  
“Deliiilaaah!”  
A fluffy calico sprinted into the room, Freddie picked her up and took her into his arms.  
“Darling, tell me, which one of these two should I wear tomorrow?”  
The cat pawed at his shoulder, then rubbed her head on his chin.  
“A purr is not an answer, darling!”  
Delilah ignored the question once again, shifting in Freddie’s arms to make herself more comfortable.  
“Oh, why am I asking you? You don’t even wear clothes, just that fashionable fur!” Freddie fluffed up the fur in question, the cat answering with even louder purrs. “Ah, would you be so kind as to lend me your fur, just for a single coffee date? No? Why am I even feeding you then, huh?” He started to fuss over the cat in his arms, the worries about clothes forgotten for a second. He’d deal with that a bit later; Delilah deserved some cuddles now.

  
\---  


The keys clattered in Roger’s hands as he fussed with the lock on the flat door. A pint after the gig with his bandmates had turned into one more, then another one, then the ride in a warm bus had almost lulled Roger to sleep, the harsh contrast of the fresh air when he had left the bus at his stop had made his head slightly dizzy. He finally unlocked the door, dropping his backpack on the ground as soon as he came in.  
  
“Hey, there you are!” Charlie greeted him from the living room.  
“Hi Rog.” “Hey man!” “What’s up?” A small choir of voices followed.  
“Hey guys, how are you doing?” Roger quickly took his sneakers off and joined the others.  
“Fancy a beer?” One of the blokes gestured to a six-pack next to the coffee table. One of those already seemed to have been emptied, judging by the bottles on the table.  
  
Roger felt the buzz of the beers he had drunk back at the pub. “Yeah, why not.”  
  
“Charlie, open a cold one for Roggie here!”  
“Yeah, more like a lukewarm one,” Charles scoffed.  
“Can anyone spot me a fag?” Roger sat down in the armchair, leaning forward to grab a beer.  
“How was the gig?”  
One of the blokes handed Roger the cigarette and the lighter. “Eh, it was fine”, he said, leaning back into the armchair, “just the usual. What have you been up to?”

  
\---  


A loud text message tone woke Roger up. His head was throbbing painfully. Barely awake, his mind still foggy with sleep, he groped blindly for the mobile phone which was lying right next to his head, on the…couch cushion?  
  
Roger blinked his eyes open just enough to see where he was. Had he fallen asleep in the living room?  
He went to read the text that had woken him up, squinting at the display.  
`Freddie club gig: See you later for that coffee?`  
  
Wait, which Freddie? And what coffee? Roger tried propping himself up, but the movement was met with a nauseating feeling in his stomach. His head felt three sizes bigger, his back was hurting from the night spent on the couch. The last he remembered was arguing with one of Charles’ friends over the way sandwiches should be cut, or something. And that was after someone had gone to the store to get another two packs of beer. Seriously, how much had he drunk last night? He frowned, trying to recall some more stuff that had happened last night.  
  
Charlie tiptoed into the room. “Oh, you’re up. How do you feel?”  
“Ughh,” Roger groaned miserably, his mind still groggy with sleep, “I have this terrible hang…ache…headache. Hungover. I’m so fucking hungover.” He groaned once again, his body feeling completely beat up as he sat up on the couch. “Got any paracetamol?”  
“Don’t think so. But I can get you some water, kay?  
“Yeah, okay.”  
“Still going on that date?”  
  
Wait, how come Charles knew the date, but Roger couldn’t remember?  
  
“What date?”  
“You know, with that Freddie bloke, from that gig. You talked about that for half an hour last night. The one you shagged?”  
  
Oh. Yeah, that date!  
Oh fuck. That date.  
  
Roger sighed. “Yeah, I should go to that. Wait, I’ll get the water myself, I have to get up anyway.”  
He ran a hand through his hair just to fluff it up a bit, a force of habit, then cracked his neck ( _fuck_ that felt good!) and headed to the loo.  
  
As he washed his hands, his own sleepy face greeted him in the mirror. Messy hair, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he desperately needed some more sleep. The dull ache in his head agreed with that. Roger opened the cabinet to search for some meds. No luck.  
  
He headed to the kitchen, chugging down a pint of water quickly. That message from Freddie was still waiting for a reply.  
`Yeah, sure.` Send. There.  
  
10:40. He could take another nap, just so he didn’t look like a complete disaster when they met.  
He set the alarm for an hour and headed to his own room, to get some more sleep somewhere comfier.

  
\---  


Freddie glanced at himself in the big window of a store he was just passing, slowing down his pace just a bit to once again admire his choice of clothing. He was glad he hadn’t chosen any of the outfits he had tried on last night, as the sunny morning had made him decide on a bright yellow jacket with black piping instead, combining it with a plain black shirt and the tightest pair of jeans he owned. Now happy with his choice, he was beaming with confidence; a sunny London day was making his mood even better. He felt great, he looked…well, fabulous, he was about to meet with the cutest, hottest bloke he had met in a while. What an amazing start to the weekend!  
  
The Seven Daffodils was a really nice place, Freddie thought. The small café was bursting with eclectic chic, each of the tables, chairs and sofas a cool, unique piece of furniture (most of them thrifted, as one of the baristas had once told Freddie), with elegant lines and bright, warm colours. With all the paintings from local artists hanging on the walls, it doubled as a sort of gallery, so it was one of Freddie’s favourite places to spend the afternoon at.  
  
The smile on his face grew slightly bigger as the café cat greeted him by the entrance. He sat down at the table by a large window. A quick glance at his mobile phone told him he was five minutes early. Good. For once, he wasn’t late.  
  
“Hi Freddie, how are you?” A tall girl stopped at the table.  
“Hey Angie! I’m very well, and you?”  
“Eh, nothing special. It’s a bit of a slow day, surprisingly. You waiting for John and Bri?”  
Freddie grinned lightly. “Er, no, I’m waiting for…a friend. He’ll be here any minute now.”  
“A friend?” Angie raised her brows, amused. “You seem excited to meet with him.”  
“It’s just a coffee, you know, nothing too special.” He tried to seem unsuspicious, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.  
“Oh, just a coffee? Nice!” Angie’s teasing was a part of the usual banter, with her being more a friend of his than just a café employee at this point. “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. So, you’ll have the usual?”  
“Yeah, the usual.”  
“Sure!” The girl walked off to prepare Freddie’s order.  
  
He took his phone into his hands. It was 2pm on the dot. No new messages, no nothing.  
  
Freddie scrolled down his conversation with Roger from the other day. He had sent him the address, Roger replying that he knew about this place.  
Maybe he didn’t live nearby and the bus or the tube was late, or something. Maybe he was just stuck in traffic?  
  
He refreshed his Instagram feed to keep his mind off waiting, scrolling down the main page. There were countless Rogers Taylors on all the social networks, so his attempt of finding him the day before had ended up unsuccessful. Freddie was itching for a bit more information about him. Or at least some more pictures, as the slight details of his face slowly faded from memory. He wondered what Roger’s eyes looked like in daylight. And what the exact shade of his gorgeous blonde hair was. And would his face look even softer in the warm and pleasant light of the café. Freddie sighed quietly, smirking to himself. Just a couple minutes more, and he’d find out.

  
  


Angie brought him the coffee several minutes later, not mentioning that his friend hadn’t appeared yet. They chatted politely for another minute, and then she left to serve another customer. Freddie started to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, wiping off the almost invisible stain he noticed. He poured the sugar in the coffee, stirring absentmindedly. Roger hadn’t seemed like someone so impolite that he would just stand him up, not after he had confirmed he’d meet him. Maybe there was a misunderstanding of sorts?

  
  


The café cat was purring contently in Freddie’s lap, his cup of coffee already half-consumed.  
`Hey, you coming?` The message was sent ten minutes ago, still unanswered. Freddie shifted in his chair slightly, shooting an awkward smile to Angie, who was dutifully cleaning up the glasses and cups from the now empty table next to his.  
  
His phone chimed with a short message tune. There he was, finally answering his message. Freddie grinned, unlocking the phone.  
`SALE ALERT! SHOP 30% OFF ALL TOPS & 50% OFF ALL ACCESSO…`  
Freddie’s heart sank.

  
  


The warm sun was shining on Freddie’s face as he looked through the window down the street, his last traces of a good mood disappearing with every person that passed by the window. If Roger even showed up, Freddie would have to try really hard to even stay polite. He had wasted the better part of his afternoon on this, Roger’s apology had better be…  
  
A blonde head on the street interrupted Freddie’s thoughts, his breath hitching slightly. There he is. Finally.  
A woman with straw-blonde hair turned around to wave to someone she saw.  
The heat of shame and anger started boiling in Freddie’s stomach.

  
  


Freddie downed the last sip of his coffee, already gone cold. He called Angie over, smiling politely as he paid for the drink, and left her a nice tip. She bade him farewell cheerfully as he left the café, Freddie answering with a seemingly bright “bye darling”.  
  
_What a cunt, that Roger. He could have at least answered the text. Fuck him and fuck his invitation for a drink._

  
\---  


The growl of Roger’s empty stomach woke him up. He felt a bit disoriented at first as he slowly realised that he was lying in his bed.  
  
What time was it?  
The digital clock on his night stand read 15:27.  
  
Roger lay his head back down on the pillow, reaching for his mobile phone. The light headache was still there, a reminder of how much he’d had to drink last night.  
He pressed the button on the side of his phone, the screen not turning on in answer. He tried again. Nothing.  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he had charged the phone. The battery must have died while he was sleeping.  
  
Roger reached for the charger and plugged his phone in. He closed his eyes again, recalling the events that had led to him waking up this late.  
Yeah, Charlie’s friends were over, and there were several packs of beer consumed. He first fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. Riiiiight. And Charlie woke him up…no, he woke himself up, Charlie was just there. And he had mentioned…  
  
_Oh fuck. Freddie._  
  
Roger franticly pressed the button to turn on his phone, the display turning on to show two percent of battery.  
_Come on, charge, come on._  
  
Roger looked at the clock again. He was definitely more than late for the coffee.  
His phone finally chimed its cheerful tune as it turned on. Moments later, the messages and notifications from social media started arriving. And a single text message, too. From Freddie.  
`Freddie club gig: Hey, you coming?`  
  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ He needed to apologise quickly.  
Roger started typing up a message.  
  
`Hey I’m sooo sorry I didn’t come out to meet you, I had this busy night last night and I ended up hungover and my phone`  
  
He read through the message again. Why was he apologising like they were already dating or something? He didn’t have to explain himself like an idiot, and there he was, listing reasons why he didn’t show up. Was he really going to sound like a schoolgirl with a crush? He might as well have started the message with ”babe”, too.  
  
Roger deleted the message and started typing again.  
  
\---   


`Roger drummer Taylor: Hey, could we reschedule for another day? Something came up.`  
  
The message on the screen appeared to mock Freddie. No “sorry”, no explanation, no nothing. Just “let’s meet up some other time”. What a slap in the face.  
_Fuck you._  
  
Freddie read the message again. How did he have the cheek to even ask to meet again without apologising first?  
Delete message.  
_There you go, tosser._  
  
That was what he got for being naïve about a bloke who had batted his fucking pretty eyelashes at him and then taken him to a gig (mind you, his _own_ gig) just to meet his other shag there, and didn’t even try to pay him any attention, and then asked him out for a fucking coffee only to not show up!  
  
Freddie was fuming.  
Delete contact.  
There, now he wouldn’t have to deal with him at all anymore.  
  
His mood was ruined for the day now, though. Freddie opened his laptop, browsing through that site with the cool home décor. Should he treat himself to something, to cheer himself up? There was that adorable lamp he’d seen the other day… _no, the budget was still tight. Just a couple months more, until finances get steady, then you can splurge all you want._ Still, he needed something to brighten up his day.  
  
Deacy had mentioned some theme party happening this weekend, hadn’t he? They had last spoken a couple days ago, but he sure had said something about it…  
  
Phone back in his hands, Freddie quickly typed up a message.  
`Hey, you said there was a party somewhere tonight, right?`  
  
The reply came minutes later.  
`Deacy: Yeah, 80s party. Can’t go though, date with V.`  
`Oh come on darling, you can take her on a party date. That would be something new for you two, right?  
Deacy: Fred, I’ve already promised her a private party  
Deacy: `😉  
  
Freddie couldn’t help but snort at that message.  
`Oh, well, in that case have a good time at your own private party `😉  
  
Freddie thought for a second. Who else could he call to come with him to that party? Or maybe he could just go by himself. Wouldn’t be the first time, and he sure knew how to have a good time. Especially since the party had such an interesting theme.  
  
He texted John again. `Sorry, where did you say the party was?`  
  
Freddie smirked and went to search his closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this chapter has been a bit of a ride. Got any thoughts on it? Please share them with me!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie was tapping his leg impatiently, like he hadn’t rung the bell just seconds ago.  
> “Coming!” There was a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Moments later, Brian’s curly head greeted him. “Hey, how are you, how did the coffee date go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm being just slightly late with this chapter, given that I slowly settled into updating every Monday now, but I hope you're gonna enjoy it nonetheless!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to two wonderful ladies (and amazing writers), nastally and quirkysubject for their lovely beta work!

Freddie was tapping his leg impatiently, like he hadn’t rung the bell just seconds ago.  
  
“Coming!” There was a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Moments later, Brian’s curly head greeted him. “Hey, how are you, how did the coffee date go?”  
  
“Ugh, darling, I’ve had the _worst_ time yesterday, you wouldn’t believe!” Freddie came into the flat, Brian closing the door behind him. “I waited for him for _an hour_ – and then he didn’t even show up! Imagine that! And he had _literally_ sent me a message saying that he will come,” he bent to untie his trainers, “ _three_ hours, three hours earlier! Oh, hi Deacy darling,” he greeted John who had just popped into the room, “and then he just never came! And you know what’s even worse?”  
  
“The fact that you promised us some pizza and brought none with you?” John’s voice was just a hint of snarky, still, with a smile on his face.  
  
“Oh, the pizza is coming, I ordered it on the way here. And more importantly, the beer is here, too.” He gestured at the shopping bag that he had put down on the floor, a six-pack peeking out of it, and picked it up. “But!” Freddie entered the living room and sat down on the couch; one leg crossed over the other. “The cherry on the very top of this whole situation is the message I got almost two hours later!” Freddie sighed deeply. “Something along the lines of ‘can we reschedule’! Imagine that! The nerve! Not even a ‘sorry’. I haven’t responded, of course. And I deleted his number.”  
  
“Oh, Fred, I’m really sorry about that.” Brian sounded as apologetic as if he himself was guilty of what had happened.  
“What a bloody wanker!” John huffed in irritation. “Well, who was the bloke anyway?”  
  
Freddie shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now. It’s a pity, though, seems like you can’t find both a good-looking and well-mannered man nowadays. Or a decent party, either. John, that ‘80s thing of yours was a total bust, darling! Middle-aged couples everywhere!”  
  
John snorted, the thought of Freddie dancing to cheesy ‘80s pop amongst married couples obviously being ridiculously funny. “If I’d known, I would have brought Veronica with me!”  
A big, dramatic sigh left Freddie’s his mouth, as he rolled his eyes at John’s sneer. “Well don’t laugh, darling, you’re the one who told me about the party in the first place! Anyway,” he cheered up, as he changed the topic abruptly, “what’s up with you two? How’s the song coming along?”  
  
“Great, just great!” A wide smile appeared on Brian’s face as he spoke. “I’m pretty much done with my part, just a bit more fiddling with the solo, John’s got the bass line down for the most part. The piano section is not done yet – but you said you’d help me with that, right?” Freddie nodded quickly and eagerly, not wanting to interrupt Brian. “And here’s the thing! Instead of just using a drums sample, I have just thought of asking a friend of mine if he knows of someone who might help! You don’t know him, but there is this gig he has on Tuesday and you can come with me if you want.”  
  
John quirked an eyebrow. “Wait, how haven’t you thought of that earlier? We’ve spent weeks thinking of what to do about the drums. Given that no one we know would do the job well enough for your liking…”  
  
“Well, the thing is,” Brian spread his legs and leaned forward on the chair “that he’s an old roommate of mine who I haven’t seen in a while. I ran into him a couple days ago and he invited me to his gig and I figured – why not just ask him then! I mean, he’s a drummer, too…”  
“Ugh, drummers,” Freddie muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.  
Brian barely noticed his interruption, and continued talking “…but I wouldn’t really want to bother him with this because he’s usually really busy, so I thought that I might just ask him if he knows someone who wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time working on this without… you know, without really getting much profit out of it.”  
  
“Well, maybe,” John started, “just maybe, that friend of yours knows someone who would be willing to withstand the torture that’s working on something next to you.” He chuckled, as Brian rolled his eyes at him. “And in that case, we might even end up with someone who’d work with us on the next thing we decide to record.”  
“Darling, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brian ditches that poor bloke after the first beat that he plays out of time.” Freddie scoffed, amused.  
  
“Oh, come on,” Brian complained, “it’s not like you aren’t nit-picky either.”  
“That’s called self-criticism, dear, and that makes me grow as an artist! Anyway, why don’t you just ask that friend of yours first, maybe he’d want to play?”  
  
Brian winced slightly. “You know, I haven’t seen him in a while, asking him for a favour like that would be…”  
“So you’d rather ask him to ask someone you don’t know at all for that same favour? That sure makes sense.” Freddie frowned at him.  
“You’re right.” Brian sighed. “I’ll ask him. You should come with me, though, to hear him play! He’s really good.”  
  
John nodded. “Sure thing! On Tuesday, you said?”  
“Yeah, at The Seven Daffodils.”  
“Ugh, no way I’m coming.” Freddie huffed. “That’s where I was supposed to meet for a drink with that idiot, I’m not going back there this soon.” Especially not to see another bloody drummer. He’d had enough of those for a while.  
“You should go,” John chimed in amusedly, “to break the jinx.”  
“Well, there’s no jinx to be broken, anyway. You’re not going on a date, Fred, don’t be a baby and come along.”  
  
Freddie threw up his hands. John and Brian were right, a night out with them would cheer him up; it could be just the thing to get his mind off that rude idiot who didn’t deserve him anyway. And who knew, maybe this drummer really was a decent bloke? “Alright, alright, I’ll go with you two then.”  
  
The doorbell rang loudly, Freddie jumping at the sound.  
  
“Ah, great, that must be the pizza!”  
  
He got up and headed towards the door.

  
\---  


“You’re kidding me, right?” Charlie raised an eyebrow at Roger.  
“No, why?”  
“You overslept, then you texted the poor bloke ‘let’s meet some other time’ without even saying sorry or explaining why you didn’t show up, and now you’re wondering why he hasn’t texted you back.”  
“But I…I didn’t…no way it sounds that harsh!”  
“Maybe not exactly harsh, but it is kind of rude.”  
“I wasn’t rude!” Roger crossed his arms, pouting.  
“Well what do you think it sounds like?”  
“Completely normal.” Roger complained. “What, it doesn’t?”  
  
Charlie passed the phone back to him. “Read it again.”  
“What?”  
“Read the message again, out loud.”  
  
Roger huffed, his tone of voice mock-declamatory. “Hey, could we reschedule for the other day, something…okay, okay, you’re right. I should’ve at least said I’m sorry.”  
“Well text him you’re sorry then!”  
“Nope, I won’t.” Roger pouted. “I texted him a while ago, I would seem like an idiot if I did it again now.”  
  
Charlie scoffed. “And you don’t think you seem like one after that message you’ve sent?”  
Fair enough. Charlie had a point.  
“I’ll text him later, maybe. Or tomorrow.”  
“As you wish.” Charlie shrugged.  
  
_No way I’m gonna do it that much later. I’ve already made myself sound like an idiot with this message, I’m not gonna act like a sap five hours later. _  
  
“Too bad though,” Charlie piped up again “, you really seemed to be into him.”  
“No I wasn’t.”  
“Drunk Roger would disagree,” scoffed Charlie.  
“Drunk Roger talks nonsense, you should know that at this point!” Roger pouted. “And I’m not drinking with you anymore, you’re no fun.”  
“Sure thing, Rog, sure thing.”  
  
There was a smirk on Charlie’s face, and Roger replied with a grin of his own. He knew there was no way he’d be declining any invitations for a drink with him because of this, he just wouldn’t join drinking with three pints already in his system. If there was something to be learned, that was not to drink with a head start to the others, and not to confirm any plans while hungover.  
  
And maybe to learn how to apologise. But boy, was that one a tricky thing.__

__  
\---  
_ _

Freddie put the eyeliner cap back on the pen, groaning, then wiped the makeup from his eye. His wing had turned out wobbly and smudged for the umpteenth time. He picked up his phone and texted Brian.  
  
`Darling, I’ll probably be late. My makeup isn’t cooperating.`  
  
He glanced at his watch. Forty-five more minutes. Maybe he wouldn’t be so late. He already had the clothes picked out, and his hair was straightened to perfection.  
Freddie looked out the window. Was it raining? Yes, but of course it was. He sighed.  
Well, that was it for his perfectly styled hair.  
  
Giving up on the makeup for a second, Freddie took the hairspray in his hand, spraying diligently around his head. The best he could hope for was that the rain would stop soon and he’d try to be quick getting in and out of the cab anyway.  
His phone chimed with a message.  
  
`Bri: Please, Fred, hurry up. You’re not attending the Oscars, it’s just a gig.`  
  
Hah, Brian was one to talk, as if he didn’t have about twenty hair products in his bathroom.  
  
_Please don’t mess up now._ Freddie took the eyeliner back in his hand, carefully lining his eye, then flicking the elegant wing from the corner upwards.  
Victory! He took a closer look in the mirror, his lips curling in a satisfied smirk with the result.  
And now for the other eye.

  
\---  


Roger was heading towards the bar for a glass of water, when he noticed a familiar tall frame and a curly head of hair. So Brian had remembered to come to his gig, that’s nice!  
He waved at him, grabbing his attention, and Brian took a second to say something to the bloke next to him, before coming over.  
  
“Hey, you came! It’s good to see you!”  
“Yeah, you too! Roger, this is John. John, Roger, my ex-roommate and the drummer for the band that’s playing tonight.”  
  
John shook hands with him. Damn, but what a strong grip he had.  
  
“Nice to meet you Roger.”  
“You too. Hey, would you join me backstage? We won’t be starting for a bit, there are some technical issues, it seems.”  
  
The two followed Roger as he led him into the spacious room behind the bar, full of unexhibited art. The other band members were already there, each fiddling with their instrument or scrolling through the sheets, casually chatting with each other.  
“So, what’s on the setlist tonight?” Brian nudged the conversation.  
“Actually, some original stuff my friend wrote. Her drummer fell ill though, so she asked me if I could help her out. Cool stuff, can’t wait for you to hear it!” Roger grinned.  
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear it.” Brian smiled.  
  
Roger kept talking, his good mood about the incoming gig more than obvious. “It’s a pleasure to play something that hasn’t been played a million times before, you know. Speaking of which, are you still scribbling some of that stuff of yours, Bri?”  
Chuckling lightly, Brian replied, “Yeah, I do, I’m still writing a bit.”  
  
Just as Roger started to speak again, John interrupted. “Actually, Bri’s got this song that’s almost fully arranged for a band, and it’s quite something, really.”  
“Yeah?” Roger blinked, now listening intently.  
“Ah, it’s nothing, I mean…” Brian tried to cut John off.  
“…and I’m playing the bass on it,” John continued, “and our other friend, Freddie, he’s coming here later actually, he’s singing and he has quite a voice, you know.”  
  
At the mention of the name ‘Freddie’, Roger’s heart jumped, but John kept talking.  
  
“We’re only having problems with the drums… don’t really know anyone who would fit our ideas, you know, with Brian being kinda fussy about the details, so we might just end up working with the drum samples, maybe…”  
“I could play!” Roger’s voice was cheerful and bright. “If you think I’d be a good fit.”  
“You would?” Brian was genuinely surprised with his proposal.  
“Yeah, sure! You played me some of your stuff ages ago, but I remember it was banger, honestly. I’d love to play with you!”  
“Well, that’s great! Let me buy you a pint then!” Brian beamed.  
“And one for your bassist, too?” John smirked, as if he was saying, ‘I have just sealed the deal for you, now pay up.’  
Brian huffed in amusement. “Sure thing, Deacy. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  
\---  


The cab pulled over in front of the café. The rain, fortunately, had stopped, and Freddie walked towards the entrance contently. The small crowd was visible through the windows, but he couldn’t hear music coming from the café. Good, that meant he wasn’t late.  
  
He checked on his phone. There was a text from Brian. `If you happen to arrive before the gig starts, we’ll be in the backstage.`  
  
Once inside, Freddie noticed Brian in a second, standing at the bar, with three pints next to him.  
  
“Need help, darling? And is the third one for me, or have you already met up with that friend of yours?”  
“Oh, hello to you too, Freddie.” Brian’s voice was cheerful. “Just so you know, you’re late, but so is the gig. And the third beer is for Roger, yeah, you’ll need to buy yours.”  
  
Freddie’s heart skipped a beat. _Roger._ He had come here to have a fun night and not think about that wanker of a drummer who had ruined his weekend. There was no way the bloke he was about to meet was one and the same as that idiot.  
  
“Roger?”  
“Yeah, my friend.”  
“Drummer Roger?” Freddie’s eyebrows were slowly rising up.  
“Yes, Freddie, drummer Roger, and what’s the matter with that?”  
“A blond?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Is he blond, Brian.”  
“Yes, but I don’t see how that matters. Now would you please tell me what’s…”  
“Taylor.”  
“Yes, Taylor but…what!? You know him?”  
“You’re telling me that your friend is a blond drummer named Roger Taylor, right?” Freddie’s voice was slowly rising in volume with every word spoken.  
“Freddie, what the fuck is going on.”  
“And you want to ask him to play with us, right?”  
“Yeah, and he just accepted...”  
“Accepted?”  
“Yes, he did. Freddie, what are you…?”  
  
There was no time for Brian to finish his sentence. Freddie stormed off towards the backstage area, opening the door. He was vaguely aware of Brian slipping in after him. Inside, John was having a fully-fledged conversation with Roger, who was simultaneously demonstrating his drumming on the back of a chair.  
  
Freddie let out a snort, that turned into an almost hysterical laugh. “Fabulous, just fabulous!” He then turned back to Brian; his face deadly serious. “I’m not playing with him.”  
  
He then left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, a cliffhanger! Well, at least we can hope that Roger learned his lesson and he'll do better now, right?
> 
> As always - any thoughts and comments are deeply appreciated!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tub was steaming as Freddie plopped a bath bomb into it; the sphere fizzled and the shades of bright purple filled the water around him. He sighed deeply, a tired “mmmh” following as he relaxed his muscles.  
> Last week had ended in a complete shitshow of a dating attempt. This one had just started with the very same actor from that shitshow reappearing in the form of a possible drummer for Brian’s song. Could things get any worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to part six of this story! I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to my lovely betas, quirkysubject and nastally, without the two of them this story would have never become anything more than a oneshot :)

Roger was talking to John about how the rhythm section is always really underrated. John agreed with his points with a wide grin, commenting on all the elements of the bass sections that are overlooked, even though bassists put so much thought into it.  
“The same thing must be happening to you drummers,” John added. “People think it’s just banging onto the kit full force, when in reality it’s so much more than that.”  
They were going to get along so well; Roger was sure about that.  
Their conversation was interrupted by a door that was banged open suddenly and forcefully, and a young man striding in. A stylish coat, raven-black hair, a pair of angry dark eyes…  
  
_Freddie._  
  
Roger could swear his heart stopped at the sight of him.  
  
A hysterical laugh escaped Freddie as he saw him talking to John. What was happening? Why was he here, out of all the places in London? Was he really the same man who…?  
“I’m not recording the song with him.” Freddie’s voice, suddenly cold, echoed through the room which had gone silent. He turned on his heel and marched out.  
“Freddie!” Brian yelled after him, but didn’t move, glued to the spot. There was a moment of almost palpable, awkward silence. “Roger, what's going on.” He prompted in careful voice.  
Roger stuttered. “I…he…” He felt as if there was a hole in his stomach; a dozen thoughts were cruising in his head, not a single one of them clear enough to form a proper sentence.  
“What does he mean,” Brian continued worriedly as Roger once again fell silent, “that he won’t record the song with you?”  
“It means I fucked up.” The words finally came to Roger, along with the realization that he was still standing in the same place, while Freddie had left the room what felt like an eternity ago now.  
“What?” Brian’s eyebrows shot up, the worry in his voice replaced by surprise now. “He told me your name, does he know you, Rog? And what on earth hap…Roger, where are you going?”  
  
Not answering the question, Roger all but ran out of the room. The gig wouldn’t be starting for another couple of minutes, hopefully. If he could just find Freddie by then…  
His legs brought him out of the café before he could even think where Freddie might have actually gone. Looking around the street, he noticed a figure standing a bit further away, trying to hail a cab. Roger thanked his luck silently and headed towards him. Now he had a chance to apologise properly and…  
  
A cab pulled up next to Freddie.  
  
Roger sped his pace up, on the verge of running. “Freddie!”

  
\---  


Someone called his name and Freddie turned around, a reflex more than his own will.  
But of course, it was Roger, that fucking jerk. He was hurrying and he looked…like he was sorry? Was he? There was a spark of hope in Freddie’s nervous mind.  
  
“What do you want?” He asked dryly, crossing his arms and steadying his breathing that quickened slightly the moment he saw Roger walking up to him. He mustn’t look like he would let Roger get away easily with what he’d done; just a tinge of coldness in his voice and…  
“I…” Roger blinked as if he was confused; his previous determination to talk seemed to disappear into thin air. “Are you in Brian’s band,” he asked sheepishly.  
  
Wasn’t he going to apologise?  
  
Freddie cocked his head. “Yes. And you are not.” His night was ruined once again, the hope he'd had that Roger might approach the situation with a proper ‘sorry’ now looking ridiculous to him. There was a painful pang of shame in his chest; he had to get away, now.  
Freddie got into the car.  
“Wait, Freddie, I wan…”  
  
He shut the door loudly. If Roger really wanted to say something useful, he should’ve done so when he had the chance.  
“Could you please start driving?” Freddie’s voice was soft and polite.  
_Breathe, Freddie, breathe. That idiot is not worth your time. And no way in hell will he be recording Brian’s song with you._

  
\---  


“Basically,” Roger started, Brian and John looking at him inquisitively, “we were supposed to meet for a coffee, right here, in fact, and I…”  
Brian’s jaw fell open. “Wait. Here? Like, ‘here’ here? At this café?”  
“Yeah, here. And then I overslept and I messaged him later but I didn’t…  
“…didn’t really apologise properly.” John finished his sentence.  
“What?” Roger’s eyes widened. “Why do you…oh, fuck. He told you about that.”  
Brian crossed his arms. “He told us about the impolite idiot that stood him up and never showed up for the coffee date. And then sent him a message asking to reschedule, as if it was no big deal. And that it ruined his weekend. He wasn't even going to come out here with us tonight.  
  
There was an awkward silence, interrupted only by Roger’s bandmates still chatting in the background, the previous incident seemingly forgotten. Roger bowed his head.  
  
“I would have never in a million years thought that it was you, Rog. I thought you were a decent bloke, for fucks sake.” Brian’s voice wasn’t harsh, but toned down. Disappointed.  
Roger’s chest felt a bit tighter. Although he didn’t know Brian too well, he knew that Brian wasn’t one to throw swear words around easily.  
  
“It was a mistake, okay?” He pulled himself together and spoke up, his voice just slightly strained. “I had a busy night, I was hungover, I actually wanted to come but then I took a nap,” he felt the tension in his body slowly easing up as he finally spoke to at least someone close to Freddie about what had actually happened, “and my phone died, the alarm never went off and I overslept. And yes, I fucked up because I didn't say that I was sorry but it was all just a big misunderstanding and, fuck it, I’m sorry that I stood him up. Okay? I am sorry.”  
  
Silence again. Now Brian’s head was bowed, nodding slowly in understanding, with his lips tightly pursed.  
  
“I’ll talk to him. I can’t really promise you anything, but I’ll talk to him and try to tell him you’re sorry.”  
“No need.” John chimed in. “Roger can do it himself.”  
Roger tilted his head. “What you mean?”  
“Freddie said he doesn’t want you recording. Well, Brian and I are gonna veto that, right Bri?” He shot Brian an inquisitive look and Brian nodded in agreement. “There. We need a drummer and you happen to be one. You’re gonna have to do the apologising, though.”  
It felt like Roger’s heart started beating double-time. “You think he would listen?”  
“Honestly,” John started, “he might not want to. But this way you’d at least have a chance for that.”  
Roger nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Anyway, I’ll get to record with you, and that’s something, too…”  
  
The backstage door opened again. “Come on guys”, it was a technician from the stage standing at the entrance of the room, “you’re all set.”  
“Okay, I gotta run. But I’ll see you after the gig, okay? So we can agree on when to record.”  
“That might take a bit, though.” Brian sounded a bit wary. “First, we need to talk to Freddie, get him to at least agree with the idea of having you on the track. And then somehow get the two of you meet without him running off again. You don’t really know him, but Freddie is a bit of a stubborn diva.”  
Roger gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Yeah, you don’t say.”  
“Let's hope you won’t fuck up again.”  
“John!” Brian elbowed him.  
“No, he’s right, hopefully I won’t.” Roger sighed, picking up his drumsticks. “Thanks a lot, guys, and enjoy the gig. See you later then, anyway.”

  
\---  


A nice bath. That’s exactly what was needed after such a shitty night.  
  
The tub was steaming as Freddie plopped a bath bomb into it; the sphere fizzled and the shades of bright purple filled the water around him. He sighed deeply, a tired “mmmh” following as he relaxed his muscles.  
Last week had ended in a complete shitshow of a dating attempt. This one had just started with the very same actor from that shitshow reappearing in the form of a possible drummer for Brian’s song. Could things get any worse?  
Still, he had to admit, Roger was a great drummer.  
  
Freddie knitted his brows together. The guy was a complete jerk. Brian’s ex-roommate. Huh. Why would Brian say he was such a great guy then? He was a rude fucker and Brian should have known that!  
Brian was surely going to try and persuade him into having Roger on the track anyway. And what was worse, he would be right in doing so. Freddie fumed at the thought; admitting that was a low blow to his own ego after everything that had happened. So much for a relaxing bath.  
  
He sighed again, trying to recall the lyrics of that song he’d been writing for a while now. What better way to keep his mind off Roger than focusing on his own art?  
It took him a moment to recall the words, his angry and tired brain blanking out on his own creation. _I can dim the lights and sing you songs…we can do the tango just for two…_ Right. How fucking convenient.  
  
His nerves on edge, Freddie splashed around some water nervously. His bath and his night were ruined, and once again it was because of that bloody drummer.  
There was no way that he would let Roger join their recording session.

  
\---  


A good night’s sleep had done him well, Freddie thought. The early morning was sunny, the coffee was steaming in his mug and he was ready to start the new week with no bad mood in sight.  
  
His phone chimed with a ringtone, Brian’s name showing up on the screen. It must be about the recording.  
  
“Freddie Mercury speaking!” His voice was cheerful and he chuckled after a sigh came from the other end of the line.  
“Always with the drama, Fred.” Brian’s usual calm voice followed, but a smile could be heard in his words. “Tell me, what are you up to these days? The song is practically done now, there’s just some more stuff that we’ll fix on the spot, so I’d really like to start with the recording as soon as possible, maybe even before the weekend.”  
“Oh, darling, that would be great!” Freddie beamed. “Listen, you know how I found that girl who could work the second shift at my boutique? Well she said she could start tomorrow, so I’d be free on Thursday afternoon!”  
“Thursday works for me too, and John’s schedule is sort of flexible anyway but…”  
Freddie grinned at those words. “Well that’s fantastic! Then we can start on Thursday afternoon and we can get so much done before the weekend, darling!”  
“Yeah…” There was an unsure chuckle from Brian’s end. “There is just one little thing…”  
  
Here it was. The bloody…  
  
“I’m not sure if…uh…if that works with…Roger. Brian’s voice became quieter at the end of the sentence.  
“Brian. I’m not doing that.”  
“Freddie, you know that we…”  
“No, I am not. We’ll make do with the drum machine, end of story.”  
“Freddie.” Brian’s voice grew a shade more serious, the previous shy tone now disappearing.  
“I am not recording with that jerk, no way…”  
“Freddie we…” Brian tried to butt in, but Freddie kept speaking over him.  
“…I’ll let that idiot meddle with what we started doing! No. Way.”  
  
There was a moment of ominous silence on the phone.  
  
“Freddie, it’s my track and I say I’m not going to use a bloody drum machine when we have the possibility of using a real drummer,” Brian was now concerningly loud compared to his usual manner of calm and relatively quiet speech, “who also happens to be a great one! When we get around to recording your track, you can use as many electronic substitutes as you bloody well like, but White Queen is not going to have fake drums on it, when we can have real ones, end of story!” The whole sentence came out in one breath, and there was a long inhale and even longer exhale afterwards. “Understood?” Brian added after what felt like an eternity.  
“For fuck's sake, Bri, you can’t…” Freddie complained.  
“I asked if you understand what I just said, Fred.” His voice was almost back to normal, but the traces of anger still remained in the cadence of his words.  
“Okay, I bloody understand. You happy now?” A sharp bitterness came with Freddie’s words. “But there’s a condition. I’m not going to record at the same time as he does.”  
“We’ll see about that. You may have to; I don’t know yet. Now.” Freddie heard Brian take another deep breath. “Roger said that he can do later today, or on Friday. Are you free on Friday then?”  
“No, I promised Kash I’d go to a museum with her. Haven’t seen her in a while, you know…”  
“Okay, so it will be the weekend, then.” Brian concluded simply.  
  
Freddie felt devastated. Now the plans for the recording had to be pushed back because of that bloody…that fucking… words escaped him as he tried to find a word degrading enough for how he currently felt about Roger. “Yeah, weekend. Just don’t be surprised if he decides to stand you up, too.”  
  
There was a deep sigh at the end of the line. “Saturday afternoon, Deacy’s place. See you then.” Brian seemed to be trying to finish the conversation as soon as possible. No details about the new changes he for sure had made since they last met, no reminding him about the stuff regarding his interpretation that he had mentioned time and again, knowing (and honestly, probably loving) that Freddie would take his creation into his own hands just to make it even more special.  
“See you, Bri.” Freddie’s answer was short.  
  
Was their band starting to fall apart before they were even completely formed? There was a painful, sharp tug in Freddie’s chest.  
All because of Roger.  
No. All of that because of Freddie.  
He was the one who didn’t want a good drummer on Brian’s track. He was the one who wanted to go for a subpar choice because of his own ego. What kind of a friend was he?  
  
Freddie buried his face in his hands and clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in an attempt not to cry.  
His phone chimed and vibrated once again. A text message, probably from Brian to add more details about Roger and his bloody drums…  
  
`Bri: I forgot to tell you, I decided to use your suggestion on the chord progression on that second bridge, it really works well.`  
  
There he was, the Brian he knew. The Brian who knew him so well too, knew exactly how to put his foot down when Freddie went overboard with emotions and drama, and how to make him realize he’s on his side, not against him.  
The band wouldn’t fall apart. Nor the world. He’d just have to deal with Roger for a little bit, and now he felt like that was a small price to pay for a friendship as strong and precious as this. And for music as good as Brian’s.

  
\---  


It felt good, Roger had to admit, ringing John’s doorbell after all that had gone down just a few days ago. There were already voices inside the flat and Roger glanced at his watch. He wasn’t really that late, which had to mean that the rest of them had come over a bit earlier. _Makes sense, though. You’re only a guest musician here, so to say._ Still it was a small victory after all that mess, and now he just had to win Freddie back over. Okay, ‘just’ was a light word. But he would hopefully be able to win him over with a bit of stubbornness and a bit of charm.  
  
Moments later, John opened the door with a wide smile on his face. “Hi Rog, come in and make yourself at home.”  
Roger nodded in greeting. “Hi John, how are you?”  
“Really happy about the recording,” he chuckled, “but those two will give me grey hairs at some point, for sure.”  
  
As though in confirmation of John’s last comment, from somewhere in the flat came a high pitched “aaaaa”, followed by a nervous “No, even higher!”  
  
“Get comfy,” John said, “It might take a while before we get around to recording.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate your comments so feel free to leave your thoughts!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian sighed deeply in frustration and lay his head onto the top of the keyboard, thick curls falling all over it. “We’re never gonna get this right, we tried it before too and it’s still not what I had in mind.”
> 
> “Okay, wait, let me try it again.” Freddie took a deep breath, steadying himself before he sang the high-pitched note again, his diaphragm trembling as he kept the note both high and long. “Aaaaah!”  
> “No, even higher!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After an unexpected hiatus (uni is hard, people), I'm back to updating this story! And in the meantime, this happened to get over 1000 hits! I thank each one of you for checking out the story and for those who are still around for this chapter - I hope you're going to like it!  
> The other little milestone is the fact this story now has over 20k words, which is a really big thing for me, a non-native english speaker. I never would have thought I'd write something this big but it just keeps growing, and my happiness grows with it too!
> 
> Of course, this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for quirkysubject and nastally, two wonderful writers who took (and still take) their time to beta my work - and can't thank them enough for that!  
> Another thank-you goes to Mixsiee for listening to my ramblings about the chapter, if it weren't for her I would probably still be stuck in the last couple hundred words :D
> 
> But enough of me talking - I hope you enjoy this!

Freddie’s jaw clenched involuntarily the moment he heard doorbell ring. He closed his eyes and inhaled for a moment.  
_No, you’re not gonna be flustered over that idiot. Pull yourself together. _  
  
“Sorry, you were saying?” He shifted his attention back to Brian. _It’s still about the background vocals – he hasn’t stopped talking about those since he came into John’s flat. _  
“I was saying what I've been saying the whole time – you need to go higher!”  
“I don’t,” Freddie huffed in protest, “I’m right on pitch! I could go higher but that would be off, I told you already!”  
Brian sighed deeply in frustration and lay his head onto the top of the keyboard, thick curls falling all over it. “We’re never gonna get this right, we tried it before too and it’s still not what I had in mind.”  
“Okay, wait, let me try it again.” Freddie took a deep breath, steadying himself before he sang the high-pitched note again, his diaphragm trembling as he kept the note both high and long. “Aaaaah!”  
“No, even higher!”  
  
He could hear the frustration in Brian’s voice now matching his own. _But I am on pitch, for God’s sake. Brian just doesn’t know what he wants and that’s why he's whining about this._  
  
“I tried it higher and you told me it was too sharp, now I’m right on pitch and you say it needs to be higher, Brian, that makes no sense!”  
“It just won’t sound right for the backing vocals, I told you. Maybe it’s about your timbre then!”  
Freddie sighed heavily. “Brian, I have no idea what you want from me.”  
“Maybe it just needs to sound a bit…softer?” Brian suggested after a moment. “Could you do that?”  
  
Another deep breath, another attempt to sing that note. Same pitch, a slightly softer sound, aaand…  
  
“It’s still not what I was thinking of.” Brian shook his head, giving up. “Maybe we need to leave that for later.”  
Freddie nodded, pursing his lips. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ll get what you want right now.”  
  
“I could try.” A familiar voice, and half a second later, as Freddie turned his head to look, a familiar face had appeared in the corner of the room. _When did he come in? The sneaky little twat._  
“I mean, if it’s about the backing vocals, as you said. I wouldn’t meddle with singing the lead, of course.” Roger was standing nonchalantly, as if he had already been there for the entirety of the conversation. A friendly face, bright eyes…  
  
_…and that damned grin as he talks._ Freddie’s stomach twisted; the sight of the drummer was just short of gorgeous, but the bitter aftertaste of their previous encounter and all that had happened in the meantime made him want to leave at once. Or make _him_ leave. Or just shut him up somehow.  
  
“Brian darling, I don’t think that…” Freddie started, as innocently as he could muster, but Brian spoke up just a second later.  
“Sure, why not. I mean,” he smiled at Roger, then looked at Freddie, eyeing him as he spoke, “it’s just an attempt, and it’s just the backing vocals, right?”  
Freddie shrugged half-heartedly, crossing his arms. “Okay then, let’s hear the drummer sing.”  
Brian pressed a few notes on the little synthesizer in front of him. “So we have this little arpeggio, and then this high F sharp.”  
“Okay, got it.” Roger sounded completely confident in his following attempt.  
  
_And now let’s hear the idiot screech and embarrass himself. That would be quite…_  
  
The sound that followed was far from a screech. High pitched – yes, kind of sharp – sure, it was a high note and it would have taken some skill to make it sound even near decent. But softer than Freddie’s own note?  
  
“Yes!” Brian exclaimed with joy. “ _That’s_ the timbre I was thinking of!”  
  
_Oh for fuck's sake._____

__  
\---  
_ _

“I’m gonna take a break for a minute. John, got a fag?” Freddie’s voice seemed to hide a hint of bitterness in his seemingly mild tone.  
Brian raised his brow. “But Freddie, you don’t smoke!”  
“And you don’t ever eat fast food, except when you’re drunk off your ass at 4am on a Saturday.”  
  
Brian huffed, insulted, but didn't say a word.  
  
“So, John? Got those fags?” He asked again.  
John’s voice sounded almost calm, as if he wasn’t fazed the slightest by the scene that was going on. “I’m trying to cut back on smoking. Veronica asked me to.”  
  
Roger thought of a packet of fags in his backpack, then about the possible repercussions. He didn’t even get to greet Freddie properly since he had come in, and after all that had happened a couple days ago this might lead to either the tension calming down, or to a total disaster. He should probably stay quiet, he figured. After all, he hadn't been asked and the tension was already high.  
  
“So you don’t have a single fag somewhere in your flat? How convenient.” Freddie answered John bitterly.  
_Fuck it._ “I have some.” Roger offered, trying to hide the slight awkwardness in his voice.  
Freddie shot him an annoyed look. “Great,” he uttered.  
  
It took Roger just a moment to take a pack of cigarettes out from a small pocket on the inside of his backpack.  
  
“Marlboro Red? Do you want me to fry my vocal cords completely?” Freddie scoffed, as if in disbelief.  
  
_And it went completely wrong. But of course it did._  
  
“I’ve seen you smoking worse in the clubs.” John piped up again, his voice sounding slightly amused.  
There was just a moment of silence, interrupted only by the deep breath that Freddie took. “And would you kindly put a sock in it, John? How about that?”  
“And would you kindly get off your high horse?” John asked plainly. “If you want a fag, either take what’s offered or go buy your own and let’s get back to work.”  
  
Roger shifted awkwardly on his feet. This was the furthest thing from what he had wanted out of coming here, and it was his own fault.  
  
Brian’s nervous voice joined the conversation once again. “Freddie, we've just started working, you can’t do a cigarette run half an hour after we started!”  
“Well in that half an hour you've done nothing but whine about me _not singing high enough_ ”, Freddie grimaced as he mocked the words. “And you’ve got your precious drummer now, right? And the backing vocal, too. There you go – he can sing your precious F sharp all you wish and, in the meantime, I can go and buy myself some bloody fags.”  
Brian sighed tiredly, then shrugged. “We’ll take a break then. No point in working if we’re not all around.”  
“See you in a bit then.” Freddie said plainly. The whole room was awkwardly quiet as he put his shoes on and left the flat.  
  
The silence hung in the room for a moment longer before John spoke up again. “That went well.”  
Roger sighed as he sat on the chair nearby. “I shouldn’t have offered him anything.”  
“He would’ve made a fuss over something else, then.” Brian’s voice was plain and frank. “He’s irritated because I told him that his timbre wasn’t what I imagined for that part. He’ll calm down soon though, he’s not one to stay mad for too long.” He paused as if he wasn’t sure if he should say something more. A moment went by and Brian spoke up again. “Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move for me to be so eager about you singing that given the…er, situation.” He sighed. “Still, he’ll simmer down at some point. I know him and I know he’s gonna want the best sound possible on this track, just like we do.” He gestured at John, who nodded with a knowing smile. “I think he’ll trust me with what I had in mind, and if it means you on the backing vocals – so be it. He’ll be glad about it in the end, you’ll see.”  
“Let’s hope so.” Roger concluded and crossed his fingers in his mind.

  
\---  


Freddie walked down the hall, towards the elevator, the tense feeling in his shoulders and jaw not leaving his body even now that he was out of the flat. The fags weren’t really the best idea, he admitted to himself, but he still felt like smoking.  
No. He had to have some self-control if he wanted to keep his voice healthy during the recording.  
  
Entering the elevator, Freddie took a deep breath, then pressed the button for the last floor and closed his eyes as the doors slid shut. Not much later, the elevator gave a short “ding”, indicating that he arrived at the top floor. He left the elevator that closed silently behind him and went around the corner in the hall, and then another one, until he ended up facing a steep metal ladder, leading upwards, to the rooftop of the building.  
As he closed the metal door behind him, Freddie took another deep breath. The warm sun and the view of the Thames in the distance greeted him; a bright view overtook his gloomy mood. The breeze up here was a bit stronger than he expected and a shiver went through his body, leaving the goose bumps all over his arms.  
Freddie leaned onto the concrete wall, soaking up the city sounds from below.  
  
_This isn’t fair. Today should’ve been such a good day – an opportunity to spend the day goofing around, try different ways to sing and play and record, all those things we've talked about. And what did I get instead? Brian whining about the note at the top of my bloody range not sounding good enough – no, soft enough, that knobhead getting it right at the first fucking try, then playing it off like it’s nothing and offering me that bloody Marlboro, and then Deacy making me look like a complete idiot in front of him. What the hell is going on?_  
  
The thoughts in Freddie’s head started to stray after a bit. It was tiring to keep thinking about all the possibly negative outcomes of Roger being here, he had to admit, especially because his mind kept reminding him that their unpleasant encounters didn’t mean he was _actually_ some kind of a villain. That one thought had been around for days, Freddie’s ego pushing it away every time, and it had now resurfaced once again.  
Damn it. He was wrong, he had overreacted again, that shouldn’t have happened. Roger’s attempt of singing had been just him offering more help, in addition to him wanting to play the drums on the track. And the cigarette too – an act of politeness that he had declined so rudely.  
Freddie wanted to slap himself for acting on instinct again, that damn instinct being “Roger is a bad guy, end of story”. He clenched his fists in frustration. _Have I learned absolutely nothing since that conversation with Brian?_

  
\---  


Not only had Freddie left in a bad mood, but he wasn’t returning, either.  
  
John and Brian were chatting away about the plans for today, explaining to Roger what they wanted to do, to try, all that jazz, but he just couldn’t get into it properly, the sight of agitated Freddie still etched in his mind. He still tried to follow the conversation and, at one point, Brian picked up his guitar (the beloved hand-made thing, he remembered) to play him a couple of lines. John joined in on the bass soon after and Roger had to sit by the small drumkit that John had organized, trying to pick up the basic rhythm Brian had planned. Still, it wasn’t all that without the lead vocal missing.  
  
“Do you think he’s on the roof?” Brian asked John after the fifth round of ‘and here Freddie would sing this’, when it became obvious that he was sorely needed so the session would make any progress. He put his guitar aside carefully.  
“Probably.” John answered shortly, plucking a cool, random bassline.  
“Could you go see if he’s there, please?”  
“Okay,” John chuckled, turning to Roger. “He hit his head on the way to the rooftop too many times to count, that’s why he wants me to go.”  
Brian rolled his eyes. “Are you really going to mention that to everyone who comes to your flat?”  
A short and simple ‘yes’ was enough for Brian to groan and roll his eyes again. Roger couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
Hanging out with them was so simple, so…organic. He already got along well with Brian; John, although seemingly reserved, was nothing but welcoming and friendly ever since he had arrived. But Freddie… For a second, all that easy and playful banter from when they first met went through Roger’s head. It wasn’t just the flirting, Freddie had such a strong but bright personality, hidden behind his playfulness that dragged Roger towards him so quickly. And ever since that night, he hadn't had the chance to see that again.  
Hopefully, that would change soon.  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll go.” John finally concluded, heading towards the door.  
“Good! We’re gonna keep working, I have that one thing I wanted to go over with Roger now.”  
“The chorus, right?”  
“Yeah, the chorus.”  
“Okay, I’ll see you in a minute.” And with that, John was out of the door.

  
\---  


God knew how long Freddie had been standing by the wall, letting his thoughts flow as he calmed down, watching the city beneath him and the glistening horizon ahead, before the door behind him rattled as they opened.  
  
“As I thought.” John’s voice came from behind his back, the footsteps approaching him. “No fags, then?”  
Freddie gave a half-hearted chuckle. “No fags. I couldn’t be bothered.”  
“That’s good. We still need that voice of yours to record. Brian had some more possible variations of some stuff in mind I think, so we should go over that too.”  
“Hah, of course he had.” This chuckle was much more light-hearted and sincere now. Freddie turned his head to look at John, who was now also leaning on the wall, looking into the distance.  
“You know you didn’t have to make a scene over nothing, right?” John uttered. Freddie’s pensive silence prompted him to speak once again. “He’s here to help, not to undermine you or whatever idea you've put in that head of yours.”  
“I know, I know. But it’s not very easy getting over a bloody Adonis coming here after he made a fool of me, and then taking over that part Brian was nagging about for God knows how long – in one attempt!”  
  
John stifled a snort at the Adonis comment, stopping himself just short of making Freddie aggravated again. “Listen, just because you’ve had a couple shitty encounters, it doesn’t mean he’s here to steal your show. You’ve got the lead and that piano bit. And if Brian thinks that his voice would fit the background vocals better, then I believe him, and you should, too.”  
  
Freddie nodded slowly, a heavy exhale following.  
  
John continued, now wrapping an arm around Freddie’s shoulders. “But he trusts you with the lead vocals. And we all can’t wait to get started. Just please don’t think we've turned against you now. I think Brian is not at all happy with how he reacted to Roger’s singing, not with you around. And I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was a lot, I know.”  
Freddie’s face brightened a little and he scoffed. “Well you weren’t wrong; I do smoke all kinds of stuff when out – but you don’t exactly shy away from that either.”  
  
They shared a chuckle and a moment of comfortable silence as the tension finally disappeared.  
  
“Now come on.” John started again; his tone cheerful. “Let’s go back there and do some actual playing, we don’t have all day. They have already started on something, so please don’t jump down the poor bloke’s throat and it’s all gonna be just fine.” He finished with a reassuring smile.

  
\---  


“Okay, now.” Brian shifted on the chair next to the drum kit where Roger was seated. “You heard how the intro goes, well, the chorus is basically the same but I need something, _something_ to go between each line. See,” and Brian took his guitar back in his arms, not even bothering to put the strap over his shoulder, “it goes like this - _needing_ ”, he strummed twice, “ _unheard_ ”, and twice again, “ _pleading_ , et cetera et cetera, we just need something in between.” Roger tried to utter an idea, but Brian kept talking. “So I was thinking,” he stood up, leaving the guitar aside, and went for the keyboard, “we could add something like this.” He hummed the melody while he played a couple quick rhythms in the lower register of the keyboard after each phrase. “And it would be a different rhythm between each line. I tried to make that effect with the fake drums but it was horrendous. So I gave up and tried to add the piano into the arrangement for a similar effect. But now we have the drums and…what?”  
  
Roger was looking at Brian, grinning without even realising. “Oh, nothing, I just think it sounds so cool, I can’t wait to try it out!”  
  
In all truth, besides the music sounding cool, Roger was more than happy to watch and listen to Brian going on about his idea and explaining it meticulously while demonstrating. The freshness of the ideas, the optimistic approach, the never heard before melody, it had all added up to make Roger’s heart beat faster. He’d be making real music with someone who didn’t try to replicate what had already been composed and heard a million times before, with someone who didn’t use the same three chords in rotation, with someone who was exploring options and arrangements and thinking deeply about them. If the rest of them were this way too, then he’d want nothing more but to play with them for however long they would want him to.  
  
“So, would you like to try it?”  
“Damn sure I would!” Roger beamed.  
Brian was back at his guitar, now adjusting the strap over his shoulder and standing up. “Okay, here we go. One, two, three, four.”  
  
It took a couple tries for both of them to get their sounds aligned, the rhythms Roger added too stiff at first, then too sparse, but then it slowly started to come together. A quick couple of triplets here, a row of short and quick notes there, it was all coming along like a dream! There he was, finally making some good music, not playing the damn Wonderwalls and whatnots – this was the real thing!  
  
“That’s what I had in mind from the very beginning!” Brian exclaimed with a wide grin on his face. “Even better than I initially thought it would be!” Brian thought for a moment. “And since it was essentially the only part the piano played…the rest of the arrangement is for the guitar, bass and drums…”  
“Are you cutting the piano part out?” Freddie all but appeared in the room entrance, his voice bitter.  
“Freddie…” Brian uttered, stopping after Freddie’s piercing eyes flashed with visible anger.  
  
The room fell silent for what seemed to be the longest moment ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts feel free to leave them in the comments - I appreciate all of them!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As silence filled the room, Freddie took a few steps forward, to where Brian and Roger were sitting.  
> “Show me.” His voice was now quiet.  
> Brian furrowed his brows, like he was trying to gauge the sudden mood change. “What?”  
> “How it will sound without the piano. Show me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After another unexpected pause, Im back with another chapter and I hope you're gonna enjoy it!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to quirkysubject and nastally for being the most awesome beta readers!

“Are you cutting the piano part out?”  
  
The blood buzzed loudly in Freddie’s ears, his face burning as the words left his mouth, exploding with rage.  
  
“Freddie…” Brian’s pleading eyes spoke to him even though the words failed the guitarist.  
  
As silence filled the room, Freddie took a few steps forward, to where Brian and Roger were sitting.  
“Show me.” His voice was now quiet.  
Brian furrowed his brows, like he was trying to gauge the sudden mood change. “What?”  
“How it will sound without the piano. Show me.”  
“Okay, but we… just… John.” Brian stuttered awkwardly, caught off guard. He then took a deep breath, composing himself. “We were just trying it out and we haven’t tried it with John yet so it’s very, _very_ rou…”  
Freddie shot him another piercing look. “It seemed to be enough for you to decide that the piano is out. Go ahead then and show me.”  
Brian cleared his throat. “Roger, do you remember what you just played?”  
Freddie bit the inside of his cheek as Roger spoke. “Yeah, I think I do, just give me a second.” There wasn’t any smugness in his voice, but something else. Concern, maybe?  
  
He faced the drummer. Roger’s lips were pursed tightly, giving away the obvious nervousness on his face. His head was nodding just slightly to an inner pulse as his hands moved in quick, short strokes, the drumsticks hovering over the drums as he mimed the beat, remembering his part. His eyes were half hooded, his mouth almost pouting as he focused, the strands of blonde hair framing his face, and then he bit his lip subconsciously…  
That sight pierced straight through Freddie’s heart, poking at the boiling ball of anger he had felt ever since he returned into the flat.  
  
“Okay, I think I’ve got it.” Roger exclaimed.  
“Then go ahead.” Freddie said plainly.  
  
Brian and Roger exchanged looks as Brian set the tempo, counting them in.

  
\---  


_You can remember it; you’ve just played it a few times in a row._  
  
Roger tried to brace himself, but the truth was, as much as Brian claimed he liked their last take, it was just a rough sketch of what it should be. And besides, it wasn’t like he could really remember the exact rhythm he had played in their last attempt.  
Not to mention Freddie’s piercing look that he could almost feel on himself.  
His chest tightened at the thought of not playing well enough and Freddie leaving rehearsal or forcing him out…no, he _had_ to get this right.  
  
_Three, four, okay here we go. One, two, that row of triplets, one, two, now that dotted rhythm, one, two…_  
  
It took no more than a couple of bars for Roger to get immersed in the music again. But the truth was, as much as he enjoyed the music that spoke to him, as much as the rhythms started falling into place again, the section they had just practised ended really quickly.  
And now it just seemed lukewarm.  
  
_It’s not lukewarm. It’s as good as it could possibly be after, what, twenty minutes of practicing, if even that much._  
  
He looked at Freddie. Brian was now also looking at him.  
  
“So?” Brian prompted quietly.  
Freddie nodded, then nodded once again. “The piano is out.”  
A breathy laugh of disbelief left Brian’s mouth. “Really, you’re okay with it?”  
  
Freddie pursed his lips and crossed his arms, his voice sounding completely unruffled.  
  
“Listen. We have spent a ton of time working on that part and it's always sounded just…mediocre. I know this is just an attempt; John wasn’t playing, I wasn’t singing. But it just sounds much steadier and it has more character, I admit.” He paused just to send Roger a stern look, interrupting a grin that started growing on his face. “You were right”, Freddie continued, turning his eyes back to Brian, “it’s your song and you know what you’re doing. But make another big decision like that behind my back, and I’m out. We were working together from the very start and I don’t want to keep losing my parts now, and not to someone who's just here as a guest. Got it?”  
“Got it.” Brian nodded. “I didn’t plan on making any other big changes, anyway. I think.” Roger listened as Brian’s voice changed from worried and wary to that constructive tone he got every time his music was discussed. “Now, there was a thing I forgot to tell you. I certainly won’t be adding more instruments, but I think that background vocals _will_ be layered and I’m gonna need you for that. You know, for some of the lower voices. So there, you’re still gonna do those.”  
  
“He’s saying that now”, John chimed in out of nowhere, “but wait until he decides to re-write the arrangement for a recorder, organ and Mongolian throat singers or something like that.” John snickered at his own comment, meriting a disapproving look from Brian and a stifled laugh from Roger.  
“Deacy, darling,” Freddie started again, his voice much brighter, “if that happens, I’d suggest that he watches his dear Red Special. Or his precious curls.”  
“Hey, don’t you dare touch my guitar _or_ my curls!”  
“Don’t you dare touch the arrangement, then!”  
“I’m not going to…”  
  
The voices started to overlap now, the conversation growing into banter between the three of them. Roger felt his heart curl up as he sat quietly behind the drums. Ever since they ended playing that chorus section, nobody had paid him much attention. Not that he expected to be fawned over, not at all, it was just…he and Brian clicked so well and John seemed to like him, too; the three of them – Freddie, Brian and John – they got along like a dream but…  
  
_Will I ever get to be a part of that?_ Roger felt a lump growing in his throat. _Will Freddie let me? Or will he just keep giving me an icy glance now and then, until the recording sessions are over and I’m out?_  
  
“Hey Rog!” Brian’s cheery voice interrupted his thoughts. “We’re gonna go from the beginning now. You don’t have much to play here, just a bit of…”  
  
Right, back to the rehearsal. Winning Freddie over would have to wait for a bit; there was some great music to be played right now.

  
\---  


“What is it about, anyway?”  
  
Freddie was sitting on a table, dangling one leg crossed over the other, with a steaming mug of coffee sitting next to him. A break from rehearsing was very welcome after more than an hour and a half of almost non-stop singing.  
“What is _what_ about?” Brian replied with a question, twirling a curly strand of hair around his finger as he read through his notes.  
“The song. The white queen with the stars in her hair.”  
“Tsk.” Brian glanced at Freddie sternly and shortly before he got back to his notes. “Please, Fred, I told you not to ask.”  
  
The silence that followed was interrupted just by John picking out some vague harmonies on the keyboard.  
  
“And since when do _you_ play the piano,” followed Freddie’s question to John, as if to get away from his previous one.  
John stopped fiddling with the keyboard for a moment. “My two-year anniversary with Veronica is coming up. I was thinking about writing something for her.”  
“Like?” Brian asked without raising his eyes from his notes.  
“Like a little thank-you for her being my best friend.”  
“Darling, aren’t _we_ your best friends?” Freddie gasped with a mock-surprised tone.  
John smirked before answering. “Let’s see…do you make the best cheese sandwich ever? Nope. Do you have the greatest arse ever? I don’t think so. Do you…”  
“Okay, okay”, Brian interrupted him quickly, “we get the point.”  
“Good, I don’t think you’d like me to go into more details,” John concluded, then snorted at the sight of Brian’s face turning a faint shade of pink.  
  
Brian cleared his throat and Freddie could see his eyes landing on Roger, who was sipping his coffee quietly ever since they made a break from the rehearsal.  
  
“So Rog”, Brian started, “have you ever written something?”  
Roger jerked his head minutely, as if he was awakened from his thoughts by the question. “Oh, no, not really. I mean…I’ve been writing some lyrics for a while now, but the music, that’s giving me a bit of a hard time, I guess.” He chuckled, showing a row of pearly white teeth with a sincere smile.  
  
Freddie sighed quietly. If he was honest, he half-expected Roger to say he had a ton of songs just waiting to be played, and that he just needed a guitarist and a bassist…or something equally ridiculous.  
No, it was his hurt ego that supplied that idea.  
  
_For the millionth time, he’s not gonna steal your friends, for fuck’s sake._  
  
In all honesty, Freddie couldn’t find a single flaw to Roger’s playing – or behaviour – ever since the rehearsal had actually started. He had been nothing but helpful, even though all of his input was referring to drums only; he hadn’t attempted to meddle with whatever they were saying, but instead implemented their ideas the best he could. Even though the music itself was Brian’s, Freddie and John had always given their own thoughts and ideas, all of them had had a bit of their say in the music and Roger joining hadn’t disrupted the overall dynamic of their small band the least. The very flow of the rehearsal had been nothing but pleasant, and the creative flow and the bright mood of the whole rehearsal had once again made Freddie wonder how on Earth it had come to him hating the bloke so much.  
  
It was that damned coffee date they should’ve had. That seemed like it had been ages ago now, and all the bitterness that gathered in Freddie’s heart since then – it really didn’t make sense anymore. Neither did being rude. Brian might have been right. After all, Roger was making an effort to be nice and support the band, at least.  
  
_And I should do something about that too, make it right after all that drama._  
  
Freddie turned to Roger, with an expression he hoped would come across as friendly. “So, what are the lyrics about?”  
  
There was a genuine expression of a surprise on Roger’s face as he realised the question was directed at him.  
  
“Well, um, whenever I try to write, it ends up being something about, er, my younger self, my rebel self, you know, or something vaguely political. But merging politics and art is tricky, in my opinion, you know, and I’m not always satisfied with what I write.”  
“Yeah, yeah, that’s…” Freddie found himself nodding along vigorously to Roger’s words before he even realised that he was doing, so he toned down his voice. “…that’s cool.” _Too soon. I can’t jump into being all hyper-friendly straight away._ He nodded once again, for good measure, and smiled at him before turning back to John and Brian. “Should we…”  
“Oh yeah? Well did you plan…”  
“…get on with the rehearsal?”  
…on writing some…um,” Brian’s words interrupted Freddie’s attempt to move on from the subject awkwardly, “Freddie, would you mind us taking a couple more minutes?”  
“Oh yeah darling, yeah, sure. I’m not done with the coffee yet anyway.” He chuckled, awkwardly. _And I just made a fool out of myself in front of Roger._  
In front of Roger.  
  
Freddie felt his cheeks burn at the thought. Was he really making a whole 180 turn all of a sudden? Was he on the way to fawning over the admittedly hot, smart, fun blond again, just after he had spent a whole week hating the very thought of him? No. No way that was happening.  
  
And yet.  
  
Roger was right there, all smiles and bright eyes, talking to Brian and John about his lyrics and his music ideas and they’d just spent almost two hours playing the music together and God damn it, he was brilliant in that too and his musician charisma…okay, his overall charisma, it _was_ undeniable and…  
  
_Oh no._

  
\---  


“We’ll see you tomorrow morning, then,” John said with a smile in his eyes.  
“10am, right?”  
“Right, but you can drop by a bit earlier if you’d like to have a cup of coffee with us.”  
Roger grinned at John’s suggestion. “Really? That’d be nice.”  
  
_And possibly very awkward._  
  
After they had got back to playing, Freddie had exchanged a shy and awkward smile with him every time he said or suggested something. It was a move in a somewhat better direction, as opposed to cold glances or no eye contact at all, but the overall vibe of their current situation was nothing but tense and mildly uncomfortable. And that was the last thing he’d wanted to feel like during the rehearsals and recordings.  
And he felt like doing something about that.  
  
_Now?_  
_Now._  
  
Roger shot a quick look at Freddie at the back of the room. He was already deeply engrossed in conversation with Brian and Roger sighed at the sight. Starting any conversation with him now would only lead to more awkwardness and who knew how it would go. For all he knew, if another argument would arise, he might end up getting kicked out for real this time…  
  
“Okay, I’ll come a bit earlier then. Thanks for the invite.” He nodded and smiled at John.  
“No problem, mate. See ya tomorrow.”

  
\---  


Heading home, head full of thoughts and impressions from the rehearsal, Roger found himself smiling as he remembered all of the memorable and fun moments. Everything had been coming together fairly quickly and, in Brian’s words, it would probably only take another two to three rehearsals before they’d be ready to record.  
And that’s how much time Roger would have to set everything straight with Freddie.  
  
A glimpse of dark, but somehow bright eyes appeared in Roger’s mind at that thought, and he knew he wanted to see those eyes smile at him again. He didn’t understand how Freddie won him over that quickly. But the man really had _something_ about him – the effortless charm, the sheer talent exhibited with every note he sang, and that hint of shyness which made him even more endearing. And even when angry, he’d somehow still keep the aura of dignity and elegance about him, even with all the drama that went down.  
Freddie was something else. And Roger knew it.  
And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Freddie to like him back at least as much.  
Which, honestly, was starting to look like _a lot_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, it felt good writing a non-angsty chapter after a while :D I hope you liked it and, as always, all your thoughts and comments are much appreciated!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new clothes were glorious.  
> Freddie stood outside his little boutique with a growing smile on his face, looking proudly at the shop window that displayed a pair of sleek sequin dresses  
> Liza Minnelli would’ve approved of those.  
> With a full-on grin, Freddie returned to his shop. There were some more new clothes to be displayed and finding the right place for them was always a bit of a task. Not an unenjoyable one, for sure, but one that would always take the better part of his day.  
> Freddie’s telephone chimed with a short message signal and he took it out of his pocket. An unknown number. Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After another unexpected delay (sorry about that), here's another chapter which I hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to quirkysubject and nastally for being such amazing betas!

Roger groaned, stuffing his face into a pillow.  
  
_So much for being determined and finally apologising._  
  
Sunday rehearsal had come and gone and he still hadn’t found the right situation to talk to Freddie. First, even though he had come early for that coffee John offered, Freddie had been late for the rehearsal (something about some of his new designs for a shop or a boutique, he said). So there went the chance to start any conversation over their morning coffee. Then the rehearsal had been going so damn well that he had even spent the whole break discussing his part of the background vocals with Brian, completely forgetting – oh that is why John had kept eyeing him! But who’s to blame him – Freddie had been silent for the whole break, but talking with Bri about music was always such a great thing and…  
  
_Well done, Rog, well done._  
  
And of course, _of course_ Freddie had to run off straight after the rehearsal had ended.  
So what was left, except for waiting until the next rehearsal? There were mentions of them getting together on Tuesday or Thursday but all of that was uncertain and it was possible he would just have to wait until next Saturday.  
  
_No way that’s going to happen._  
  
Determined, Roger took his phone in his hand and scrolled down his contact list.  
  
`Freddie club gig`  
  
_Oh God. This is ridiculous._  
  
A wave of flashbacks rushed into Roger’s mind.  
That club where they’d first met. Freddie’s heated looks. The beer. The kiss. The bathroom.  
The sex.  
  
Roger swallowed thickly as the thoughts kept piling up.  
  
The shots at the bar before they had left. The way to his gig.  
  
_I just kept fucking talking all the way to the club, like a total idiot._  
  
His band mates, Kate, the club manager.  
  
_I yelled at him, before I went on stage, didn’t I?_  
  
The rest of the memories – the whole sodding coffee situation, and then the band – it slapped him in the face and straight back to reality. Roger groaned, clenching his fists tightly.  
  
Being a jerk on one occasion – that was a shitty thing, okay, and he was well aware of it after all the conversations he had had about that. But being an insensitive jerk throughout almost all of that short time he had known Freddie, well, that was a whole other thing.  
  
_I shouldn’t even text him. I should just let him be._  
  
Roger ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply, shaking his head.  
  
_No, he deserves a proper apology at least._  
  
Seeing Freddie’s name listed in his contacts made his stomach stir uncomfortably again as he looked back to the screen.

  
\---  


The new clothes were glorious.  
  
Freddie stood outside his little boutique with a growing smile on his face, looking proudly at the shop window that displayed a pair of sleek sequin dresses  
  
_Liza Minnelli would’ve approved of those._  
  
With a full-on grin, Freddie returned to his shop. There were some more new clothes to be displayed and finding the right place for them was always a bit of a task. Not an unenjoyable one, for sure, but one that would always take the better part of his day.  
Freddie’s telephone chimed with a short message signal and he took it out of his pocket. _An unknown number. Huh._  
  
`Hey, I just wanted to apologise to you.`  
  
Wrong number, probably. Off the top of his head, Freddie couldn’t think of a person who might have owed him an apology.  
  
_Except for…no, no way that is happening. Nope._  
  
After all, the weekend had just passed. Тhis must be some poor bloke who was given a wrong number on purpose on a night out, that turned out to be Freddie’s, and was now trying to atone whatever ungentlemanly sin he had committed towards the girl in question.  
Phone back in pocket, Freddie returned to his clothes, but his mind kept bugging him.  
  
_What if that really is Roger? No way, he didn’t really seem apologetic at the rehearsals. But maybe… I mean, I did deserve more than just a simple ‘sorry’, that’s for sure, but this might be a start. If this is Roger at all._  
  
The clothes would have to wait for a moment, there was a message to be replied to right now.  
  
\---  
`Freddie club gig: Sorry, whose number is this?`  
  
Roger’s heart sank.  
  
_He deleted my number._  
  
An enviable number of girls who would be more than glad to have his number crossed his mind. As much as he was a charmer, Roger was never the one to give out his contact left and right. Not many people, besides the musicians he met, had that honour but Freddie… he had it and he had simply deleted it.  
  
_Well, figures, given what a jerk I have been._  
  
Still, his ego had got one hell of a blow.  
  
`It’s Roger`, he typed, biting down on his lip nervously.  
  
It was simple, this was no longer just an attempt to apologise and hope that Freddie accepted that and returned the feelings he had for him. It was a dare he put to himself to try and win Freddie over. _Again._  
Because no matter how drunk they had been that first night, or how much Roger had overreacted to everything that had happened then, it had been more than clear how much Freddie had come to like him in such a short time.  
  
_I mean, he bought me a drink out of the blue, for crying out loud._  
  
And he managed to screw that up and damn it, that didn’t feel good at all. In addition to turning out to be the biggest dick in all of London (well, figuratively, at least), he could now see what it felt like to be stood up by someone who he was really starting to fancy.  
But if there was a person who could get a positive outcome out of this, it was Roger, and he knew it.

  
\---  


Freddie smirked as he read the message, deciding to ignore the flip his stomach performed as the realisation of what this might mean sunk in.  
  
_If he wants to apologise, he better work for it._  
  
The task of finding the place for the new clothes now temporarily forgotten, Freddie quickly saved the contact and started typing out the reply.  
  
`Roger who?`  
  
_Nah, too evil.  
Well wasn’t he evil to me in the first place?  
Well yeah but… isn’t this a bit much?_  
  
Whoever said that revenge is best served cold might have underestimated Freddie’s possibility to overthink just about everything. But he was set on making Roger try his absolute best to apologise.  
  
_After all, I more than deserve that._  
  
Ultimately, he decided on a slightly less bitchy reply.  
  
`I’m listening.`  
  
The ball was in Roger’s court now, and Freddie was set on getting as much out of the apology as he could. But the reply came quickly and it felt like a bit of the let-down at first.  
  
`That bellend drummer: Could we talk perhaps?`  
  
_So much for basking in the triumph of a long and dramatic apology text._  
  
In all honesty though, Freddie knew that his flair for drama for sure wouldn’t nearly be satisfied with anything that Roger might have come up with – not that he actually expected a whole novel's worth of apologies (although he wouldn’t be opposed to it) – but as he kept thinking, he realised that this could turn out much better than any correspondence through messages would.  
Because Roger didn’t strike Freddie as someone who would fake an apology, and hearing it like that, seeing if he really meant it would…  
  
_Would let you feel okay about fawning over him all over again, huh Freddie? Well that’s an absolutely marvellous plan – if I want to end up seeming so easily won. And desperate._  
  
But the thought of hearing Roger apologise to his face, that certainly would be worth the risk of going head over heels for him again. After all, if he could manage the rehearsals somehow, he could manage this, too.  
Freddie typed out the address of his shop and sent it as a reply.

  
\---  


Another text followed, quickly after Roger had searched for the exact location to see where Freddie was inviting him.  
  
`I’ll be in my boutique for a few more hours.`  
  
_And I better get going._  
  
Roger might just have set a record for getting ready quickly, and he was on the way to the address which turned out to be on a street a bit fancier than what he’d expected.  
  
_His boutique_ , Roger thought, checking the message again after he stood in front of a sort of small, but not at all cheap looking shop. _His new designs_ , his mind supplied, remembering Freddie had mentioned that, as he saw the dramatic and flashy clothes in the window. He chuckled in amusement; it was nothing but an unintentional reaction to seeing how Freddie’s creative mind worked. _Not that I could’ve expected anything less_ , Roger concluded in his mind.  
  
Just as he approached the door, a young man left the boutique with a couple of bags and a satisfied smile on his face. As Roger passed him by, holding the door behind him and entering the shop, he could hear faint singing from somewhere inside the shop.  
  
“Dining at the Ritz, we’ll meet at nine, precisely, mmm, oooh, let’s taste the wine…”  
  
There was some light humming and Roger walked closer quietly, just to find Freddie hanging a bunch of clothes on a rack, his back turned to him. The humming continued, and so did the song. Roger came closer, as quietly as possible, trying not to interrupt this utterly adorable sight.  
  
“…mmm, na na na, I’ll dress up nicely…no, um, how did I…quite nicely, ah yeah. Driving up in style in my saloon will do qui…”  
  
Freddie stopped singing for a second just to glance behind him quickly, but as he met Roger’s eyes he shrieked and almost launched himself up at the ceiling, or so it seemed, given how startled he was.  
  
“How the fuck… when the...how…wh…”  
  
Roger launched into an apology, his hands halfway up in the air as he, too, was shocked; he would've maybe even laughed at the scene if he wasn't completely startled with Freddie’s reaction.  
  
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to, sorry, sorry, I was just…”  
  
“You were just _what_!? Sneaking up on me to give me a heart attack? Well, thank you very much but I didn’t intend to die while hanging my bloody _clothes_ in my shop! And look! I dropped this,” he stopped to get the clothing item in question from the floor, ”this _wonderful_ shirt and look, now it’s creased and I’ll have to iron it again!”  
  
Putting on his best apologetic face, Roger smiled sheepishly. “I can iron it if…”  
  
_I can iron it? Seriously, Rog?_  
  
“Nonononono, don’t bother, I can already imagine _you_ ironing. Much good _that_ would do me.” Freddie huffed as if that was the most insulting proposal ever, while putting the shirt away. “Anyway,” he continued as he slowly calmed down, flicking his hair behind his shoulder, “isn’t this just a great start for what you came here for in the first place, hm?” The cockiness of his words almost made Roger roll his eyes, but damn it, Freddie was right. He came here to apologise and ended up scaring the poor bloke. Unintentional as it was, if this would have been added onto the list of his wrongdoings, he’d better give up this very moment.  
Except Freddie was standing in front of him, with his arms crossed but also with the slightest mischievous, if a little sarcastic, glint in his eyes. And it was clear as day – he _had_ a fair chance of redeeming himself, but the apology better be damn good.

  
\---  


“Listen.” Roger started a bit insecure.  
  
_Aaaand he didn’t think at all about what he’s gonna say to me._  
  
“Yeah?” Freddie prompted him.  
“I was an idiot.”  
“Yeah.” There was a pause, and he saw Roger shuffling a little. “Yeah, you were.”  
“And I’m sorry about it. Really sorry.”  
“Uh-huh.” Freddie pouted his lips. “And?”  
  
A moment of palpable silence lingered in the air.  
  
“And I shouldn’t have been such a dick before I left for my gig. And afterwards.” Roger’s voice was plain and frank, just slightly tense. “And I should’ve messaged you about what actually happened when I stood you up for that coffee. I was hungover from the night before and I set an alarm to take a nap after I texted you but my phone died and I overslept. And I never had a proper chance to tell you about that afterwards. There. Now you know.”  
“Mhm, I see.”  
  
It all made sense now and Freddie could feel his heart mellowing at the sight and sound of Roger as his voice grew almost breathy towards the end of his story. It was not the kind of dramatic, pleading apology – this was very much Roger as Freddie knew him (even if for such a short time), honest but dignified. Still, there was a certain set to Roger’s jaw after he finished talking, as he raised his chin slightly higher than he usually would.  
  
_A bit proud, are we?_  
  
“And what about the band? The background vocals and such?” Freddie was pushing the apology now, and he knew it.  
Roger crossed his arms defensively. “Oh, you damn well know that wasn’t my decision. I was just trying to be helpful!”  
“Ah, very helpful you were, blondie.”  
  
Those few words where enough for the atmosphere to shift unexpectedly. Freddie could feel his heart beating faster as Roger cocked his head upwards just a bit more. “I told you not to call me that.”

  
\---  


Freddie tilted his head with a smirk tugging at his lips. “And yet I did.” He narrowed his eyes but Roger could see a mischievous glint in them. “And what are you gonna do about that?”  
“Well, what do you think I’m gonna do?” Roger had to work hard to keep his voice low and quiet.  
“Well, I don’t know, what _can_ you do?”  
  
The question started to circle back between the two of them; the answer so obvious but ridiculous at the same moment.  
The high-strung atmosphere tugged on Roger’s nerves. He was moments away from just grabbing Freddie and smashing their lips together but he had to stay calm, stay put, fight off this crazy and dark urge that gathered so quickly around the two of them.  
Freddie took a step forward after Roger stayed quiet, biting his lip. _Oh, what a bloody tease._  
  
“You know,” Freddie started, “I think you’re a coward who wouldn’t do a thing about it.” He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes even more. “ _Blon_ …”  
“Shut it.” Roger all but snarled, snapping at the hint of that bloody teasing nickname. “We both know this is gonna end with you on your knees and me moaning your name.”  
  
_Woah. Where had_ that _come from?_  
  
Freddie opened his mouth in surprise, without a sound, without a breath. A second felt like an eternity, all of Roger’s afterthoughts and apologies rushing into his brain but staying mute. He watched wordlessly as Freddie suddenly turned on his heel and went towards the door, dangerously calm.  
  
_That’s it, I misread all of this and there’s no going back from this fuck up._  
  
Footsteps echoed across the room, then stopped. Freddie’s hand went for the door handle… and then there was the sound of a key turning in the lock.  
  
“Darling,” he spoke unexpectedly, after a moment, “I think it’s gonna be the opposite. After all, you do still owe me some more apologising.”  
  
Taken aback, Roger watched as Freddie turned the little ‘closed’ sign on the door and headed towards the door behind the counter. He glanced back at Roger, still standing frozen in one place and spoke, his tone dark and heavy. “You coming or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some progress between these two *winks* I hope you enjoyed the chapter - your thoughts and comments are always much appreciated!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie’s moans were divine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to yet another chapter of my fic - I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to two wonderful ladies, my amazing betas, nastally and quirkysubject <3

Freddie’s moans were divine.  
  
Roger smirked to himself between the kisses he lavished on his neck. He was making Freddie enjoy this so much that he couldn’t stay silent.  
_You still owe me that apology._ The words echoed in Roger’s mind, together with a cheeky smirk on Freddie’s face. There was a rebellious part of Roger which wanted to object.  
_No, I don’t. I said I was sorry. Two times. I’m not sucking him off now, too._  
  
He nipped softly at Freddie’s neck and the dark-haired man drew a sharp breath through his teeth, followed by a soft “aah”. Then Roger felt a hand slide down his back, squeezing his arse firmly. He licked a strip up Freddie’s neck and across his jaw, until he could kiss him properly. Their teeth clashed for a short second, but that didn’t stop either of them from going on, the kisses growing feverishly hot and needy in mere seconds.  
  
_I explained everything. I even…oh God-fucking-damnit, his lips..._ Roger’s mind was spinning with pleasure, making him question his decision to spite Freddie.  
Freddie’s hands were now roaming Roger’s body freely, one hand caressing his hip and straying towards his crotch every now and then, but never actually touching him.  
  
_What a bloody tease._  
  
“Fuck,” Roger gasped breathily after Freddie’s hand finally ghosted over his hard-on for the first time, but it was gone before he knew it.  
  
If his mouth hadn't been so busy with kisses, Roger would have pouted at the loss of the teasing sensation. But he settled for the next best thing – biting Freddie’s lip. Gently enough not to hurt him, but just hard enough to get the point across. As if in answer, Freddie moaned (Roger could have sworn he felt him smiling through the kiss, too) and moved his hand to the small of Roger’s back.  
  
_Oh, you cheeky sod._  
  
With a smirk of his own, Roger thrust his hips into Freddie’s, feeling him, just as hard, against himself. Through a kiss, Freddie gasped softly so Roger repeated the motion, this time thrusting a bit harder.  
  
“Fuck, Roger… _fuck_.”  
  
Roger’s head spun at the sound of his own name, moaned like that, like a dirty word, like a forbidden fruit in Freddie’s mouth.  
  
Without another thought, Roger dropped to his knees. The floor was hard (but of course it was, and his knees would hate him later) and Freddie gasped in surprise at the unexpected twist of the situation, but Roger only grinned to himself. All hesitation gone, he grabbed Freddie by the belt, unbuckling it as quickly as he could, his hands slightly trembling. It was the excitement and the need of the moment, the sudden urge to – fuck his own ego and the argument – make Freddie fucking see stars, make him call out his name or just moan again and again and… and before he knew it, he was holding Freddie’s cock in his hand, suddenly realising he hadn't even seen him in full on the night they had first hooked up.  
  
“Fucking hell, you’re huge,” Roger blurted out before he could stop himself.  
“Why, thank you, darling,” Freddie purred, with a glint in his eyes.  
Quickly gathering himself, Roger shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t be cheeky.”  
“Can’t help it, with such a lovely view.”  
  
Smirking and hoping he didn’t blush at the unexpected answer, Roger pursed his lips and winked. Freddie’s gaze was fixed on him and Roger smiled to himself, then bit his lip, sucking on it between his teeth.  
  
Freddie's cock twitched right in front of his face.  
  
_Ah, so you fancy a show?_  
  
Shifting slightly, Roger spread his legs just a bit further, effectively pushing his arse out more prominently. A sigh fell from Freddie’s parted lips. A sure sign that he was more than right with his guess.  
  
_Well, you’ll get a show._  
  
Licking along his lower lip, slowly and sensually, he held eye contact with Freddie for a moment, before finally licking a broad strip up to the head of his cock.  
A hiss, then another whispered “fuck” followed and Freddie closed his eyes, letting his head fall backwards.  
  
With no audience to watch his ‘performance’ at the moment, Roger closed his eyes, taking the whole head into his mouth and smiling at another satisfied, dirty gasp Freddie made. Roger took a couple moments to just feel him in his mouth. He traced the edge of the head with the tip of his tongue, then sucked lightly on the very tip.  
  
A broken plea came from above. “Fuck, Rog, do that again, do that…”  
  
He repeated the motion with his tongue, then sucked in a bit more.  
There was a grip and a pull on his hair.  
  
“Unghhh, shit, Roger!” Freddie’s moans and pleas, so far soft and quiet, started growing louder bit by a bit with every word.  
  
The feel of Freddie’s hand, still firmly gripping the hair at the back of his head, sent pleasant shivers through Roger’s body and straight into his own cock. Impatience took over and he tried to relax his jaw, taking in more of Freddie’s length. He carefully curled his hand around the rest of it and started stroking him at a steady pace.  
  
_Bloody hell, he’s thick too._  
  
A series of ‘mmmhs’ and ‘aaahs’ followed and Roger realised that Freddie’s eyes were back on him. He raised his gaze and as their eyes locked another string of praising moans followed, while he kept stroking and sucking on him.  
  
“Fuck, blon…b…blow me like that, yeah!” Freddie had narrowly avoided using that nickname, except Roger couldn’t care less at this point – Freddie could've called him whatever he liked and it would’ve still been just as hot.  
  
Keeping up the pace he had set, slow but persistent and thorough, Roger tried to take more of Freddie’s length in his mouth. As he felt the tip of his cock now touching the back of his throat, he halted for a second to take a couple breaths through his nose before going any further.  
  
“Ah, what a sight you are,” Freddie moaned from above as his hand found Roger’s cheek. The sudden act seemed soft and endearing, contrasting the obscene situation they were in, and it took Roger aback for a second. But with another moan from Freddie, he snapped out of that unexpected moment and continued to suck him off, bobbing his head down the length he managed to take into his mouth.  
More inarticulate praise came from above and Roger could feel the borderline painful strain of his own cock in his pants. He palmed at his own crotch, trying to ease the sensation but it only made him twitch with more of that needy feeling.  
  
_Come on Freddie, come for me, I need some of this, too._  
  
Without much thinking, Roger went on to try and suck Freddie just a bit deeper, but his throat clenched with the sensation at the back of his throat and he gagged, emitting a dirty and wet sound.  
  
“Aaah, fucking hell, Roger!” Freddie bucked his hips forward harshly, making him gag again.  
  
_Fuck, shit, shitshitshit._  
  
Coughing loudly, Roger quickly pulled away, heaving and trying to catch his breath. In no time, Freddie was on his knees beside him, with a startled expression on his face, blurting out apologies.  
  
“Fuck, Roger, I’m _so_ sorry darling, I’m so very sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed it, are you okay now, do you need water or something?”  
Slowly getting his breathing in order, Roger coughed once more and took a deep breath in through the nose. “I’m okay now, don’t worry, it’s fine. Sorry about the…”  
“No, _I_ am sorry, I really am!” Freddie frowned. “You’re sure you’re all right?”  
“Yeah, I’m okay, really.”  
  
Both of them went silent for an awkward moment. Freddie just sat beside him with a sheepish, apologetic smile, before he suddenly stood up, zipping himself up in haste.  
  
Roger’s heart sank. Not only had he been set on (and had now failed at) giving him the blowjob of his life, but…  
  
_What the hell is going to happen on the rehearsals? Serves me right for trying to fuck him again without thinking._  
  
Roger’s mind started to race at the thought, countless awkward scenarios appearing in front of his eyes. Avoided looks, lack of communication…hell, the track could fall apart if this ended up with them not talking anymore. More awkwardness was the last thing he wanted, but he seemed to have hit the unfortunate bullseye on that.  
  
Getting up from the floor, his mind flooded with thoughts of what he could say next, Roger heard Freddie take a deep breath, as if he wanted be the first one to speak.  
In his mind, Roger crossed his fingers, not even sure what he should be hoping for now.

  
\---  


_Fuck, this was awkward._  
  
Facing Roger, Freddie took a deep breath, trying to figure what to say next. The blond was now back on his feet, with his lips pressed in a slight grimace. Freddie’s heart sunk at the sight.  
  
_No, I can’t have him thinking that he was bad, no way!_  
  
“Roger, listen,” he started softly. “I didn’t mean to…er, make you gag.”  
“I know, don’t worry.” Roger’s voice was less than elated.  
“And you’re so good at this, seriously, I _loved_ this, darling.”  
A chuckle, albeit slightly bitter, fell from Roger’s lips, followed by a half-hearted “thanks”.  
  
Freddie frowned slightly, confused by the reaction.  
  
_Damn, he’s really sensitive about this._  
  
“I think I should leave now.” Bitter as they were, Roger’s words weren’t much of a surprise, given that he was so bummed out. Still, Freddie couldn’t wrap his head around where this much of a change in attitude came from. Granted, him choking _was_ unfortunate, but clumsy things sometimes happen during sex so _why_ would he make such a big deal out of that?  
  
With not much idea of what to say next, Freddie frowned at him. “Okay, I’ll see you at the…”  
  
Finally, a thought struck him out of the blue.  
  
_But of course._  
  
“…the rehearsal. Right?” He ended his sentence with a soft smile.  
  
There was a spark in Roger’s eyes.  
  
“Yeah, the rehearsal,” Roger repeated, his voice now slightly brighter.  
  
_God, I’m an idiot!_  
  
Following Roger out of the room, Freddie cursed his pleasure-addled brain. It had taken him way too long to figure out what was going on in Roger’s head. Not that he could know for sure, but it seemed as if the poor drummer feared that he’d get into more trouble with the whole band after what had just happened.  
  
_Well, no wonder, after all he's gone through so far._  
  
“You know, darling,” he started, hoping for his voice to sound effortless and friendly, “I actually can’t wait to hear you record those backing vocals. Your voice is so interesting, you know?”  
Halting for a second and turning to Freddie, Roger raised his eyebrows in surprise, a soft smile on his face. “Oh, thanks!” Hesitating for a moment, he continued. “Well, I can see why Brian wanted you to sing the lead – you’ve got quite a voice yourself.”  
Freddie could feel the blush creeping up his cheekbones. He did pride himself on his vocal abilities, but hearing a direct compliment from Roger…well, it hit differently. “Thank you so much, dear.” He answered brightly, trying to think of how he could keep this conversation going.  
  
But as they exchanged smiles once more, the awkward silence crept up between them again, reminding Freddie of Roger’s decision to leave. With a polite, slightly forced smile on his face and a nervous feeling in his stomach, he followed Roger to the door, flipping the sign back to ‘open’ as he unlocked it.  
  
“Well, see you later then,” he said, with a lump in his throat.  
Roger nodded in reply. “Yeah, see ya.”  
  
Sighing quietly as the drummer finally took a step outside, Freddie turned back into his boutique, letting the door shut behind him slowly.  
  
“Hey, Freddie?”  
  
The unexpected sound of Roger’s voice made his heart skip a beat. Turning around quickly, he could see him standing just a few steps away, with a sudden determination written all over his face.  
  
“Just to be clear,” he uttered, his voice tense, “I like you. I really do. So take what you want from that.”  
  
A quiet “oh” is all that Freddie could muster for a couple of seconds as the whole world came to a halt. Every moment of overthinking, all the anger, amazement, fancying, confusion and all the conflicting thoughts about the blond chaos that had entered his life, it all boiled down to one thing.  
  
_He likes me. Roger Taylor just said out loud that he likes me._  
  
“Darling, I…”  
  
“Ah, Freddie, there you are!” A strong foreign accent piped up out of the blue.  
  
As if on cue, both he and Roger turned their heads, just to see a middle-aged woman in a huge hat and a gigantic pair of sunglasses, approaching quickly, with a huge grin on her face.  
  
“I _just_ passed by your boutique and saw this _wonderful_ dress but you weren’t there, love,” the woman gesticulated wildly as she spoke, “I _have_ to try that on right now! You didn’t tell me you were getting new clothes in so soon!”  
With an apologetic smile to Roger, Freddie took the woman by the hand. “And hello to you too, Lisa, you look absolutely stunning today! Why don’t you come in and look around, here, I’ll come inside right away!  
  
Not much more needed to be said as the women entered the shop, leaving Freddie with a confused Roger in front of him.  
  
“She’s a regular customer, you know, and buys quite a lot of my clothes,” Freddie explained, his voice low, “but she’s a handful. And not very polite.”  
“Wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.” Roger replied with an awkward expression on his face.  
“Me neither, dear, me neither. Rog, listen. We have to sit down and have a proper chat about all of,” he waved his hand around vaguely, “this. There’s a lot to be sorted out, you know?”  
Roger nodded; his lips tightly pressed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, you’ve got a customer now, you better hurry.”  
  
With another, quick round of goodbyes, Roger was on his way. Freddie took a moment to watch with a fond smile on his face as the blond walked down the street, when a sudden realization hit him.  
  
_Goddammit Freddie._

  
\---  


With a heavy feeling sitting on his chest, Roger plopped down onto the bus seat.  
  
He had found the courage to say what he should have said a long time ago, and yet, no definite reply had come.  
  
_“We have to have a proper chat about this.”_  
  
No definite ‘yes’ or ‘no’, no proper reply, just an unanswered question, hanging in the air.  
Freddie was right, though, Roger figured. Had he spoken earlier; they would’ve had that conversation a hundred times by now. Everything would have been sorted, one way or another, and he wouldn’t be risking more awkwardness after everything that had happened.  
  
_But no, you gotta be stubborn as a mule and wait until the very last moment._  
  
Still, there wasn’t much that could be done now. Their rehearsal’s gonna happen in a few days anyway and until then, there were other things to worry about.  
_That other rehearsal, the gig tonight and tomorrow night, and I gotta get some new sticks…or do I still have that one spare pair? No, I better buy one now…_  
  
The phone in Roger’s pocket vibrated, interrupting his thoughts  
  
`Freddie (band): For the record, I like you too. x`  
  
Forgetting his previous thoughts, Roger grinned, with a quiet ‘yesss’ escaping his mouth. An older gentleman sitting across him shot him a pointed look, but he couldn’t care less about that. After all, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that a super cool, funny, multitalented and honestly, a very hot bloke fancied him back.  
  
Roger’s heart soared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as always, I'll be glad to hear your thoughts!
> 
> I also wanted to say that I'm aware it's been a while since I last updated this fic. As we all know, this year is turning out to be very tricky - unfortunately, so is life and so is inspiration and motivation for creating.  
> To whoever is still reading my fic, and this note - I wanted to say that I'm very thankful for that. With that said, I want to let you know that, no matter the possible delays, I won't stop updating this fic. The next chapter(s) might end up being posted in two weeks or in two months, but I won't leave the story unfinished. I just enjoy it way too much to not see it all the way through - and I hope you'll keep enjoying it too :)
> 
> Take care and stay safe!
> 
> Audrie


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy birthday toooo youuuuu!”  
> Freddie banged on the keyboard dramatically, repeating the tonic chord again and again; his right foot on the pedal made the sound ring through the whole flat as Roger and John whistled and cheered. With a grin on his face and a blush high on his cheeks, Brian sheepishly tried to cheer along, thanking the boys again and again for the surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to the next chapter of this fic! I hope you'll enjoy it!
> 
> Also, I just realised that this marks half a year (and 10 days) since I posted the first chapter of my very first fic ever - this one! Time flies, so here's to that!🎉
> 
> As always, huuuuge thanks goes to quirkysubject and nastally for betaing this chapter - the learning curve of english language is endless but these two ladies are of so much help to me :)

“Happy birthday toooo youuuuu!”  
  
Freddie banged on the keyboard dramatically, repeating the tonic chord again and again; his right foot on the pedal made the sound ring through the whole flat as Roger and John whistled and cheered. With a grin on his face and a blush high on his cheeks, Brian sheepishly tried to cheer along, thanking the boys again and again for the surprise.  
  
“Thank you, you didn’t have to, really!” The guitarist’s grin grew impossibly bigger as he saw a neatly wrapped box that John had just set onto the table.  
“Nonsense, darling! It’s just a little something we got you. Come on, open it!” Freddie retorted in a cheerful, bubbly voice, with a smile on his face, his endearing front teeth on full display. Roger’s heart jumped at the sight.  
  
As much as Freddie struck him as a confident person, that hearty smile was rarely as visible as it was now. There was sheer joy on guitarists face that Freddie mirrored perfectly and Roger couldn’t help but feel tender affection for him. Freddie’s radiant happiness was really a sight to behold.  
  
“Are you kidding me?” A half amused, half offended tone in Brian’s voice made Roger realise the present had just been unpacked. “A jumper? In July?”  
“Well, we figured, since you wear your dress shirts even when it’s 30 degrees outside…” John answered with a smug grin.  
“That’s called professional attire! It’s not my fault that most of the time I have to meet up with you right after my classes!” Brian retorted, trying for a serious tone, but as he looked into the box once again, his words turned into a gasp. “Is that…? Noooo!”  
“What is it, Bri?” Barely containing himself, Freddie prompted the guitarist who seemed to have lost his mastery of speech.  
“You remembered! That’s the telescope lens I was telling you about! Guys, you really shouldn’t have, this is…it’s too much!”  
“Nonsense, darling, just enjoy your gift!” Freddie was glowing as he spoke.  
  
As Brian took the package out of the box with all the care in the world, a glint in his eyes gave away traces of happy tears, barely contained by his rapid blinking.  
  
“Well to be honest,” John piped up, seemingly trying to shift the focus away from an undignified sniffle that came from Brian, “it was your Chrissie who remembered the exact model, I don’t think either of us could’ve…”  
“Shh, John, that was meant to be a secret!” With a mildly scolding, but still well-meaning expression, Freddie continued. “Anyway, you may enjoy your stars and galaxies in full HD now, darling!”  
“Maybe you’ll finally discover a new one, who knows.” Roger added in a bright voice.  
“You know the probability of that happening is really small, right?” Brian replied, chuckling. After a moment passed without an answer from the grinning drummer, he spoke again, knitting his brows together. “As in, you know that the power of an average NASA telescope is far greater…”  
Roger couldn’t hold back a snort at the sight of Brian going into a full-blown professor mode in mere moments. “Yeah Bri, I know, relax,” he said through a chuckle, “I was just kidding!”  
In a second, the smile was back on Brian’s face. “Yeah, I mean, I’m just really excited because of…you know, _this_ ,” holding the packet in his hands with awe and care, Brian raised it slightly towards Roger.  
“Yeah, so you had to go all Thomas Edison on our poor Roggie here.” Freddie added, obviously trying hard for at least a halfway-serious expression.  
“Freddie, you _do_ know that Edison wasn’t an astrono…oh damn you!”  
  
With Freddie bursting into laughter and John sporting a smug grin as Brian’s face changed into a bright shade of red, Roger felt his chest growing tighter. Throughout all the friendly banter, he could see that this wonderful group of friends, bright and cool young lads who, like him, were still finding their place in the world and, like him, were breathing music, had truly let him into their group.  
  
Granted, he had had a rocky start, but as the rehearsals had followed one after another, he had felt as if he was slowly becoming a part of the band and their group and like this might actually last.  
  
His mind jumped back to a message he had got from John a few days ago.  
  
`Hey Rog, we’re buying Bri a collective b-day present, would you like to chip in? It’s fine if you won’t or if you already got him something.`  
  
And sure, Roger had wanted to kick himself for completely forgetting that Brian’s birthday had been nearing, but that very message had been the unexpected confirmation that the guys were actually starting to see him as one of them. Although he knew Brian from before, he couldn't have been more grateful to him for inviting him to play in the band. He had also clicked with John straight away and this had just confirmed that he saw him as a friend. And finally, his worries about Freddie rejecting him had slowly started to disappear.  
  
Freddie…  
Freddie, who had finally begun sharing proper looks and smiles with him.  
Freddie, who had just initiated a group hug, after another round of Brian thanking all of them for the present.  
Freddie, who squeezed him closer as the tightest group hug in history grew impossibly tighter.  
Freddie, whose cologne he could now smell as if it were the only scent in the whole room; a reminder of everything that had happened just a few days ago. And of everything that had yet to happen.  
With a content smile, Roger took a deep breath, hugging his friends even closer.

` `  
\---  
` `

Freddie’s stomach rumbled at the smell that came through as Brian cut into the cake. He had been waiting for his delicacy for half a day. Bless Brian’s wonderful mum and his non-vegan birthday diet; by treating himself he basically treated the whole band to a culinary masterpiece.  
  
“I still don’t understand how you can like spotted dick more than, say, a trifle,” John commented as he poked his slice of cake with a fork. “Or a Victoria sponge.”  
“Well it’s my grandma’s recipe, it’s not the usual thing! It might have to do with the spices.” Brian took a bite of cake, and a contented hum followed, as if demonstrating the delightfulness of the recipe. “Yeah,” he continued while chewing through the bite, leaving the manners aside for a moment, “it’s probably about the spices, though I don’t know which ones she’s using. My mum guards that recipe with her life.” He smiled softly, going for another bite of the cake.  
  
Truth be told, it was really something else, this recipe. As Freddie tasted it himself, he once again praised the baking skills of the May family. This cake somehow seemed to get better with every one of Brian’s birthdays. The sweetness was really on point, the texture was amazing…damn, this was good! And tasty! And…he needed a glass of water. Quickly.  
  
It must have been a crumb he inhaled, because the choking sensation at the back of his throat made him cough harshly. But before he knew it, his bandmates were on his feet and a glass of water appeared in his hand in a matter of moments, Freddie gulping it down quickly. Another round of coughing, a little less harsh now, another sip of water and it was all better.  
  
“You alright, Fred? Can you breathe?” Brian’s worried voice was no surprise to hear.  
“Yeah, don’t worry dear,” he said, slowly getting his breathing back in order, “I’m all good, it was just the cake. I must’ve eaten too quickly.”  
  
As soon as he had assured Brian that no, he wouldn’t die and yes, the cake was excellent, the conversation could have moved on.  
  
But the topic of the wonderful desert still didn’t seem to have run its course, since Roger spoke up, mere moments later.  
  
“Damn, I’m usually not too crazy about spotted dick, but this is really something else. Compliments to the chef, Bri.”  
“Thanks, I’ll let my mum know you liked it!”  
  
As the silence came back for a moment, interrupted only by the sound of forks on their plates, a short chuckle came, seemingly out of nowhere.  
Then another one. Only now the source had been clear.  
  
“John, darling, what’s so funny?”  
  
Stifling his laughter with a hand over his mouth, John uttered a short “nothing” to Freddie, only to chuckle once again.  
  
“Come on John, share the joke with us!” Brian tried. Freddie could see Roger shooting him a curious look too.  
“It’s nothing, seriously,” John barely managed to say before bursting into a full-on fit of giggles.  
“Well it’s surely something when you’re laughing like that!” Freddie tried again.  
“It’s just,” John now tried to catch his breath between the words and the laughter, “you…you choked on _dick_.”  
  
With an initial gasp, Freddie burst into laughter after a moment, almost doubling over at the silly pun.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, how very mature of you,” Brian added through a grin, suppressing a laugh.  
  
Freddie sighed deeply, trying to stop laughing. It _was_ a stupid joke, a childish one, really! But John’s giggles were infectious and now Brian was laughing too and Roger…  
  
Roger was attempting a chuckle, but his face turned bright red.  
  
_Oh._  
Freddie could feel his own face turning what surely was the deepest shade of red possible in mere seconds. There probably wasn’t a worse time to remind him of what had _gone down_ the last time they had met up. And with the two of them not having anything sorted out yet, Freddie could feel his nerves going tense like a guitar string at the thought of messing things up in any way before talking properly about the matter; a reminder of that in front of his friends just made him more aware that he should definitely mind what he said and did until then.  
  
From the corner of his eyes, Freddie noticed Roger standing up.  
  
“Going to the loo,” Roger muttered quietly, visibly trying his best to not just dash from the room, “I’ll be back in a moment.”  
“Are you okay, Rog? You look a bit…” Brian started, as ever too worried.  
“Nah, I’m totally fine, no worries.” With those words, Roger disappeared down the hall leading to the bathroom.  
  
Still snickering at his joke, John spoke again. “Maybe he also choked on the…”  
“Deacy, darling, leave Roger be!” Freddie retorted, a bit louder than he intended, earning himself a raised brow from Brian and a curious look from John. “I mean,” he softened his voice, “why make a fuss over him going to the loo?”  
“And what’s it to you, Fred,” John asked, with a sly smirk.  
“Nothing?” Freddie said, momentarily wanting to slap himself for slipping up and being so obvious. “Nothing.” He attempted to correct himself with a more confident tone in his voice.  
  
Too late. Two pair of eyes were now looking at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation.  
  
“It’s nothing, seriously!” Freddie tried to assure them once more, but it was more than obvious they wouldn’t believe that. “I just don’t want you to…uh, take the mickey out of him, he's done absolutely nothing.”  
“Reeeally?”  
  
John was not buying it.  
  
_Damn it._  
  
“Yes, really.” Freddie tried again, quickly thinking of a more convincing argument. “Can we please stop talking about _dick_ when we’re eating Brian's mum's lovely birthday _cake_ , darling.”  
“Well that was a joke, _darling_ ,” John responded simply, “and it was funny.”  
“Maybe it wasn’t to him,” Brian added, “he didn’t look very comfortable to me.”  
In his mind, Freddie thanked Brian for saving the situation. “There, John. Now will you leave him be? And me too, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Still far from pleased, John gave Freddie a pointed stare, obviously not completely sold on the explanation.  
  
“Although…”  
  
_Oh come on Bri, don’t screw this up now!_  
  
“…he doesn’t really mind this kind of humor, usually.” Brian noted, frowning.  
“So why would he now? And why would you need to defend him like that?”  
  
Freddie swallowed thickly. He could almost hear the wheels turning in John’s mind.  
And then there was a gasp.  
  
“Did you two…” John started, interrupted by approaching footsteps from the hall.  
“Shush!” Freddie hissed quietly, “he’s coming back!”  
  
John shot Freddie a smug look, smirking.  
  
_Well, we’re fucked now._

  
\---  


The room was strangely quiet when Roger returned from the bathroom.  
  
“Hey Rog,” Brian piped up after a short moment, “would you like some more cake?”  
“No thanks,” he declined, “I’m stuffed.”  
“Well, maybe if Freddie offered…” Roger could hear John commenting under his breath, silenced by a short ‘shh’ from Freddie himself.  
  
_God knows what they were talking about while I was away. Goddammit, just don’t let it be another argument._  
  
“Sorry, sorry, yeah, he did say he was _stuffed_.” John continued a bit louder, not really minding a worried expression growing on Freddie’s face. “But Rog, you know you can always go back for round two, right?” He finished his thought with what could only be called a shit-eating grin, and Roger felt his stomach turn. What the hell was going on? “Round two of _cake_ , I mean.” John continued again, waggling his eyebrows. “Like, you can come back for seconds. _Sloppy_ se…”  
“John, that’s enough!” Brian interrupted, surprisingly loudly. “We have to start rehearsing anyway. Come on, let’s go.”  
“Right, let’s go,” Freddie agreed quickly with apparent tension in his voice. “We don’t have all day, darlings.”  
  
Walking towards his drumkit, deeply confused with the situation he just witnessed, Roger managed to shoot a look at Freddie, hoping that his expression would read as ‘what the hell was going on’, but just subtly enough so no one else would notice. Because, what the hell _was_ going on? John kept talking about that damned cake, half of it sounding like nonsense sexual innuendos…hell, could it be that Freddie had told them everything while he was in the bathroom?  
  
No, there was no way it could be. He would never. _He better hadn't._ Also, Brian hadn't mention anything since he had come back, neither had Freddie…it was just John and his weird string of sex jokes.  
  
Still, Roger couldn’t help but notice a slight frown on Freddie’s face, as he went for the piano to warm up a bit.  
  
Something was up for sure.  
  
As Roger sighed and went on to check the tuning, Freddie turned around on the little piano stool, eyeing him pointedly and mouthing the words carefully.  
  
“We need to talk.”  
  
Roger prayed he had read Freddie’s lips wrong. But the expression on his face agreed with the message.  
  
_Oh fu-_  
  
“Ready?” Brian chimed, almost startling Roger, as he strummed a chord on his guitar, perfectly tuned. “Let’s try it from the top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little witty summary of the chapter ending :D
> 
> bri: rog, want some more cake?  
> rog: no thanks i’m stuffed  
> john: lol stuffed *chuckles*  
> john: maybe he’d want some if freddie offered  
> rog: what?  
> john: what?  
> *crickets*  
> freddie: *dies a little*  
> bri: so…rehearsals, amrite?
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed this chapter - feel free to leave me your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
